Carry Your Heart
by Kateniss
Summary: AU: Jax is on the brink of a downward spiral as Tara prepares to make her exit. Isabelle is back in Charming to get a grasp on her life and save her father from himself after tragedy hits their family. They were polar opposites in high school but when Isabelle finds herself working at TM as a last resort, they slowly realize they may be just what the other needed. Jax/OC
1. In with the New

**A/N-**I've had this story in the works for a long time and finally felt like I was ready to post. Hopefully, you'll like it and want more! This is a major, major AU story and I don't plan on including much of anything that's happened in the series so far. While I realize that Jax would've been 21 in about 1999, I decided to put this story in 2012 so hopefully that will explain the references to texting and anything that wouldn't have been around in 1999. I also just want to say right away that even though Tara is in the story (only for a little bit), I don't intend on making her a bitch or anything that would seem OOC for her. She's definitely not my favorite character on the show but I don't want to write her OOC if I can help it.

This story starts right before Tara leaves for medical school and deals with the aftershocks of that for Jax. He's going to be in a pretty bad place once she leaves and I'm more interested in how Jax pulls out of it-which is where my OC comes in, who has some tragedy she's dealing with too. Just to prepare you, this is definitely going to be a slow burn. There's no story if they just fall into bed right away and everything's good again. Expect banter and major sexual tension! Anyways, here's the first chapter...I hope you like it!

* * *

The parking lot of Teller-Morrow, lined with a row of motorcycles and cracked, ashen pavement, wasn't even half full yet given that it was already almost noon. She'd half-expected the place to be crawling with customers in need of an oil change or whatever else it was they came here for—the clubhouse was just a few hundred yards away from the main office. Yet despite the lack of a crowd, just pulling into the parking lot itself had taken every ounce of courage she had left. Getting out of her car was another story.

Isabelle's fists clenched around the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. An abrupt laugh choked through her throat and her head shook in a reflexive, almost desperate, grasp for control. The worst case scenario was that Gemma Teller-Morrow would flatly choose not to hire her. It wasn't like working at a repair shop in her hometown was exactly her first choice either. But, she had to remind herself: beggars can't be choosers. Not to mention the fact that she was worried she'd have to start begging pretty quickly. All she needed was a job—any job—to prove to her father that she was adult enough to continue making her own decisions and that throwing away his tuition money and breaking his heart in the process wasn't for nothing.

She only had this one card left to play and with a renewed sense of determination to take the reins of her life again, she gingerly opened her car door and stepped out onto the pavement. As she hesitantly walked closer to Teller-Morrow's main office, a few bangs and crashes could be heard from inside the garage—probably nothing out of the ordinary for an auto repair shop but completely foreign to her. Loud rock music bounced off the pavement with a few voices singing along really off-key—probably on purpose. Walking past the long row of motorcycles sent a little shiver of anxiety down her spine. She'd purposefully stayed away from the clubhouse—and everyone in it—in high school more out of fear of the unknown than anything. This wasn't a life she was familiar with; this wasn't a life she knew anything about but now, out of necessity, she just had to suck it up and step inside it.

Using the last shred of courage she could muster, she knocked on the office door.

"Yeah?" A muffled voice yelled from the inside.

Isabelle shuffled nervously from one side to the other, unsure of where to go from here. She didn't want to be rude and just walk inside uninvited but she couldn't exactly get Gemma to hire her if she just stood outside the door either. Before she could stop herself, she pushed open the door and stuck her head inside.

"Is it alright if I come in?" She asked quietly.

Gemma Teller-Morrow peered down her nose at her through her reading glasses and leaned back into her chair, appraising her with black-rimmed eyes and a few taps of her painted acrylic nails on the desk. When it seemed she had passed this initial test, Gemma waved her hand with a flick of her wrist.

"Sure, come on in," Gemma replied easily, gesturing for her to sit down across from her. "You went to school with Jax, right?"

Isabelle nodded, still feeling a little uneasy at the way Gemma's dark, almost shark-like eyes seemed to slice right through her. "Yeah…I'm Isabelle Martin."

A look of quick recognition passed over Gemma and she was nodding almost immediately. "That's right...that's right. I heard you were back in town but haven't seen you around. What brings you to TM? Need an oil change or somethin'?"

"Uh…no. Actually, Becca told me you were looking for some help here in the office and I was hoping I could apply."

Gemma frowned and she felt her heart jump up into her throat. "Okay…but summer's almost over. Don't you have to go back to school soon?"  
She knew exactly what Gemma was thinking…it wouldn't make much sense to hire somebody that was going to be leaving town so soon. Luckily for them both, that wasn't going to be a problem.

"I'm not going back," Isabelle shook her head.

Gemma's eyebrows lifted into her forehead in surprise but she figured that was a good a reaction as any.

"Not goin' back, huh? Last time I saw your dad, he couldn't stop talkin' about you starting law school at…shit, where were you goin' to school, again?"

"Stanford." She barely bit back a wince as she said it, knowing exactly how it must sound to this powerful, regal woman who had probably never thrown away an opportunity in her life.

"Huh," Gemma leaned back into her chair and then abruptly rose, resting a hand against her hip. "Well…you definitely heard right from Becca. I am looking for someone to help me in the office—so tell me, Isabelle, why TM? I'm sure there are plenty of other places in Charming you'd probably rather work at…"

"Lumpy and I parted ways yesterday, if that's what you're asking," she offered quietly. "It was a mutual decision."

Gemma raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Waitressing didn't agree with you too much, huh?"

She just shrugged, not wanting to disclose the countless dishes she'd dropped and all the orders she'd somehow lost track of. To say she had been a horrible waitress would be the understatement of the year. She had a feeling the only reason Lumpy had put up with her so long was because he felt bad for her.

"Something like that, yeah."

"So TM is your next choice?" The judgment underneath the weight of Gemma's stare was really starting to make her anxious.

"Look, Mrs. Teller-Morrow," she put a hand on her hip as she spoke and decided to just put it all on the table. "I may not have been a very good waitress but I'm good with numbers, I'm good with bookkeeping, and although my last job didn't end so well, I was good with the customer service part…everything else not so much. I just…I really need a job—this job—because if I don't have a job, my dad is going to kick me out and I don't have enough money saved up to afford to live on my own yet."

There. She didn't know what else she could say now. Part of her wanted to clamp her hand over her mouth.  
Gemma stared back at her with an uncomfortable mixture of surprise, shock, and a hint of suspicion. Then, in a flash, the expression shifted into a faint smile.

"Alright, then. I'll start you at part-time, $8.00 an hour, 20-25 hours a week, and then, depending on how you do here, we can talk about full-time, if that's something you want." Gemma offered diplomatically.

Doing her best to bite back the initial shock, she realized Gemma was still waiting for her to accept. "Great…thank you so much! When do you want me to start?"

"How about tomorrow? I can break down the books for you and we'll go over customer check-in and check-out, give you a feel for the job."

"Great!" She almost winced at how eager, how desperate she sounded in that moment and then with another wince, she realized how true it was.

"See you tomorrow, Isabelle. Be here at 10, alright?" Gemma said with a wave to shoo her out of the office.

"Okay…thanks again, Mrs. Teller-Morrow. I really appreciate this…"

"Hey, call me Gemma, alright? Mrs. Teller-Morrow makes me feel old."

"Sure…thanks, Gemma." She tried not to stumble too much over Gemma's name; it felt strange to refer to her that way since she'd never been on a first-name basis with her before.

Gemma just waved her off again and as she headed out the door and back towards her car, she felt like for once, her life was finally about to start heading in the right direction.

* * *

His phone buzzed loudly from the back of his pants and Jax grunted in frustration as he set down his tools to dig for it. He'd finally just gotten in a groove and this sudden interruption was not fucking helping matters. To be honest, he'd already been off all morning—working on almost zero sleep was not a good recipe for working on an engine, especially an expensive one, but he didn't really have a choice. He flipped open his pre-pay and his heart stuttered with a glimmer of hope when he saw who had texted him.

Tara.

Their fight last night had been a bad one—the worst they'd had since she'd first laid down on him that she'd applied for medical school in Chicago, a distance he'd never be able to travel. This most recent screaming match was nothing short of a fit of red, blinding rage—in front of the entire clubhouse no less-neither understanding the other and he'd put a fist through his dorm room wall to prove it. He'd be impressed with himself that he still had the ability to maneuver around this engine if he still wasn't so fucking miserable. In an effort to torture himself even more, he glanced down at what she'd texted him:

_I'm sorry about last night. Can we talk about it when you get off today?_

As much as he hated himself for it, and as much as he knew they probably needed some space to cool off, he knew he would never deny her anything. He fucking loved her. That was the real problem. He fucking loved her and she wanted to leave him. She didn't understand why he couldn't come with her—why he couldn't abandon everything he'd known and everything he'd loved before she came blasting into his life so unexpectedly. She didn't understand what the club, his family, and his brothers meant to him. And he couldn't understand why she would ever ask him to leave them behind.

They were at a stalemate now. Neither was going to budge until the other shoe finally dropped. The clock was quickly running out on him and he didn't know what else he could say, what else he could do, to convince her that leaving him would be the worst mistake of their lives. Short of getting her pregnant—which made him shudder just to think about, let alone seriously consider—he was all out of hands to play. All he could do now was wait for some sort of absolution. The sick, mounting dread pitting at the bottom of his stomach whispered that he probably wasn't going to like it either.

At 21, he thought they had their whole lives ahead of them. They were young, in love, and had the world—at the very least Charming—at their feet. Tara saw it as a prison and he was just another shackle. If she didn't leave now, she'd told him, she never would. And then she'd be stuck here with him in complete misery for the rest of their lives. Of course, she hadn't worded it exactly like that but he'd read it in her eyes, her face, hell…even her body language told him everything he needed to know.

In their five years together, sure, they'd had fights, they'd even been on and off for a little while too but he'd never dreamed it would ever come to this—that he'd have to contemplate a life without her. He'd always known she was unhappy in Charming but just never knew what to do about it. He'd always assumed he would be enough for her. What a fucking mistake that was.

So despite the lingering, almost crippling dread that threatened to bubble to the surface, he swallowed his pride and decided it wasn't time to throw in the towel yet…he had to keep trying, to keep reminding her what she would be leaving behind. His fingers flew over the keys in a quick response:

_Sure, babe. I'll call ya when I'm done. Love u._

He quickly turned his phone off and slid it back into his pocket. He didn't need to add to his anguish by waiting to see what she responded—to see if she told him she loved him back. Right about now, he wasn't so sure she actually did.

"Hey, Jax?" His mother's voice called out from behind him.

Ordinarily, he'd sigh and run a hand through his hair in agitation at the sound of her voice. As of late, the only reason she wanted to talk to him was to tell him to stop being just a pussy-whipped baby about Tara and to just let her go. It wasn't lost on him that his mother hadn't hid her disgust and general distaste for his old lady since day one and that shit had gotten old fast. But now, today, her voice was a welcome respite from the voices in his head.

"Yeah, Ma?" He called back over his shoulder.

"Can I talk to you in the office for a second?"

He nodded to her over his shoulder and grabbed a towel to wipe the grime from his hands. As he turned on his heel to head towards the office, a flash of a blonde head and long legs caught his eye. The figure was walking towards a black, vintage Trans Am and he had to do a double take. Holy shit…was that…it couldn't be. When the girl turned to open the car door, he got a clear view of her face to confirm his suspicions. What the hell was Isabelle Martin doing at TM? And where the fuck did she get that car?

Even from a distance, he could tell she looked good. Real good. He smiled at the memory of seeing her bounce around the halls in that tiny cheerleading skirt and she clearly hadn't lost the body she'd somehow fit into it. He couldn't remember the last time he saw her…graduation, maybe? Her hair was a little shorter than he remembered, a little wavier too but it looked good on her. He imagined just about anything would look good on her. With a jolt, he cringed at the memory of Tara viciously punching him in the head when he'd watched Isabelle doing those high kicks a little too closely at the one pep rally Tara had been able to drag him to. As a senior in high school, he'd yet to learn that for Tara, he couldn't even look at other girls, let alone touch them. That lesson sunk in pretty quickly after a few treacherous nights at the clubhouse after he was finally patched in—it had taken all-girl all-out smack down to do it, but he'd gotten the message loud and clear.

Not that it really mattered much where Isabelle was concerned. They hadn't exactly run in the same circles in high school and he could count on one hand the number of classes he could remember having with her. He did, however, distinctly remember relying heavily on her to cheat his way through his American Literature final…there had been way too much fucking poetry in that class but she just ate it up. It made him want to gag. Still, he'd managed to discreetly glance at her paper long enough to get the gist of the answers and then bluff his way through the essay. It was funny…they had sat next to each other for an entire semester at the end of their senior year and didn't ever really talk. He supposed there wasn't a whole lot to say. But still, he'd had plenty of fun for the both of them giving her shit about those little skirts and getting under her skin. It was pretty easy to get an eye roll or a haughty huff and he had thoroughly enjoyed ruffling her feathers.

Even now, they still wouldn't have a whole lot to say to each other. He didn't really know her and couldn't say that he ever really had. But what he did know was that her mom had just died about six months before from lung cancer. Gemma had passed around a sympathy card for the family and he'd signed it out of respect. He imagined Gemma had sent some flowers with the card, courtesy of Samcro, and it was probably just thrown into a pile with the rest of the sympathy cards from everyone else in town that had no idea what they were going through. Well, if he was Isabelle, that's what he would do anyways.

And now here she was in TM's parking lot. Wasn't she supposed to be in law school or some shit like that?

"Jackson."

He jumped at the sound of Gemma's voice and dutifully continued on his way to the office. The last thing he needed right now was for his mother to see what he'd been looking at. He quickly closed the door behind him and found her waiting patiently for him behind her desk.

"What's up, Ma?"

She just shrugged. "I just hired Isabelle Martin to help me out in the office."

He didn't know what he'd been expecting her to say but it definitely wasn't that. Well, at least that explained what she was doing here…even if that explanation left a shitload of other questions in its wake.

"Okay…"

"You know I've been wanting some help with things around here so I can help Luann out more at Cara Cara—frees me up to do some other things, anyways. So I hired her—not gonna pass up an opportunity to hire someone around here who could've gone to law school."

He could see her point and just shrugged. "Alright…so what did you want to talk to me for?"

"Well, seeing as how you two went to school together, I just wanted to make sure there wasn't any history I needed to know about."

Shit, she sure didn't waste any time.

"I've never screwed her if that's what you're asking," he shook his head in slight disgust.

Gemma held her hands up in defense. "Sorry—I had to know. She's a good girl—smart too and I don't want to mess up a golden opportunity like this just because you couldn't keep it in your pants. I'd like to keep her around for awhile and good help is hard to find, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess, Ma."

Gemma's mouth crinkled up in amusement. "Didn't she used to be a cheerleader?"

He nodded, running a hand through his overly-long, tangled hair. "Yeah—I mean, a smart cheerleader is kind of an oxymoron, don't you think? Kinda weird she'd end up here anyways…"

"I think she has her own reasons…can't imagine what she must be going through right now. I heard her dad is hitting the bottle pretty hard too…I bet he didn't take his little girl not following in his footsteps too well either."

"So she quit school?"

"That's what she said."

"Shit," he exhaled.

His mother nodded the same sentiment. "Yeah, shit is right. Hey—did she ever come to the clubhouse when you kids were in school? I don't remember ever seeing her around…"

"Uh, well," he bit back a smile. "I just saw her there once. That was it."

He didn't see the need to elaborate and tell his mother that he'd found Isabelle puking her guts out in a dark corner outside the clubhouse. The one time her and her friend Becca had managed to sneak in—they both overdid it with a few too many tequila shots. He was still willing to bet that that was the first time Isabelle had ever really drank like that. He'd just stepped outside for a quick cigarette, leaving Tara, Opie, and Donna inside, and almost shit his pants in surprise when he found her crouched down in the darkness. Watching Charming High's reigning cheerleader princess brought down a few notches wasn't a sight he was going to pass up. Not to mention of course that he'd gotten a healthy eyeful of her cleavage in the process too. Always a bonus.

And it had been funny up until she threw up all over his brand new Nikes. But instead of getting pissed, he'd done the gentlemanly thing and held back her hair as she emptied the rest of her stomach onto the slick grass. Then he'd patiently helped her back inside the clubhouse to find Becca. He and Opie had stood outside with them as they waited for Isabelle's jackass boyfriend to pick them up and that had been that. He still wasn't entirely sure why he hadn't just walked away from her after she puked all over him. Maybe it was the humiliation in her voice as she apologized or the way she'd looked up at him with wide, mortified eyes but he couldn't just leave her out there like that. And despite the high he got from teasing her, he never mentioned a word about it to her the following Monday or any day, for that matter.

"Huh," Gemma huffed a little at his lack of disclosure. He was sure she could sense there was more to the story but she wasn't going to hear it from him.

"I guess the clubhouse wasn't exactly her scene when we were in high school," he offered with a shrug.

"Yeah, I guess not…well, don't give her too hard a time or anything, alright? Just…be nice, okay?"

"What makes you think I won't be nice?" He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest in mild annoyance.

"I don't know…you've been more than a little moody lately," her eyes widened when he narrowed his own right back at her. "Well, shit, Jackson—you know what I mean and you know it's true. Just don't take your shit out on the new girl."

"Alright, alright," he conceded, not wanting to get into anything having to do with Tara. He didn't need another lecture about how selfish she was being or about how it was time to finally move on with his life. "You don't have to worry about anything—you know I'm not a complete asshole, right?"

"Just figured I'd throw it out there," Gemma replied with a shrug that was a little too easy for her, given that she was also his mother.

"Wow," he put his hand over his heart in mock-pain. "Thanks, Ma."

She just grinned and leaned forward to peck him on the cheek. "You know I still love ya."

"Yeah…right."

"Get back to work, now. Hey—you gonna be by the house later for dinner?"

He'd almost made it out the door…so close yet so far. "Uh…probably not. I'm gonna see Tara when I get off."

Gemma's face slipped into an icy, hardened mask and he shook out a shiver just at the sight of it. "Really, Jackson? After that shit show last night, you're just gonna go runnin' back to that girl like some kind of pussy-whipped puppy?"

There were a few things about what she'd just said that didn't sit well with him. Referring to Tara as "that girl" for starters. Calling him a pussy-whipped puppy didn't help things either. But he decided to be the adult in the situation and just shrugged his shoulders as he continued out the door.

* * *

Isabelle pulled into coffee shop's parking lot with a heavy sigh, parking her mom's Trans Am right next to Becca's car. She didn't know how she'd managed to go toe-to-toe with Gemma Teller-Morrow without running away screaming her head off. That woman was nothing short of intimidating with her regal posture, heavy makeup, and spiky high heels. Of course the fact that Gemma just oozed influence and power had done nothing for her nerves. Right…a little caffeine and some food was exactly what she needed right now to calm down.

At least she could take comfort in the fact that their meeting had gone better than she could've hoped for. She got the job and that was all that mattered.

Becca was already sitting at their usual table with a coffee and sandwich when she walked in and immediately waved her over with a bright smile.

"Belle! I already ordered your usual—get over here and tell me everything!"

She grinned at her long-time friend and as she fell into the chair across from her, she was grateful to still have this connection with her. They'd been best friends since freshman year of high school—Becca had been new and slightly awkward in making friends. They'd had gym together and had easily traded worries and gossip about boys, school, and other girls—and they'd been best friends ever since. Although they'd more or less gone their separate ways after graduation—Isabelle to Stanford and Becca to the local beauty school here in Charming—they'd never lost touch and now, more than ever, Isabelle knew how much she needed her best friend.

"So…I told you Gemma would hire you," Becca stated matter-of-factly before taking a sip of her latte.

"Well," she replied quickly. "It wasn't exactly a slam dunk either. It's not like I have the best track record in terms of employment."

Becca just waved a hand in dismissal. "Who cares? You have a new, better job now and you don't have to worry about anything anymore."

Yeah, she thought bitterly, like worrying about getting kicked out for breaking her dad's heart. At this point, he was in such bad shape she figured he was just looking for a reason to explode and there was little sense in giving him any ammunition.

"I start tomorrow and everything…I'm just so glad she went for it. For a second there, I thought she was about to scratch out my eyes or something."

Becca just chuckled with a slight shrug. "Yeah, that's how she is. She must've liked you enough to hire you on the spot. But you never can tell…just be glad your name isn't Tara. Then she'd _really_ hate you…"

"You know," she tilted her head to the side in thought as she spoke. "I gotta say I'm kinda surprised those two are still together."

"What do you mean? They've always been pretty hot and heavy."

"I don't know," Isabelle just shrugged. "I guess Tara never seemed like the type who'd want to stay here her whole life."

"I wouldn't have pegged you as someone who would come _back_ to Charming so there's that."

Isabelle just shrugged. "People change…circumstances change."

"Yeah, well, she probably won't be stickin' around for too much longer anyways so I guess that's a moot point. And let me tell you, the after-shocks of that are not gonna be pretty."

Isabelle just shook her head. The one thing that had really changed about her best friend over the last four years was her head-scratching involvement with Samcro. Well, more like partying with Samcro. And she guessed that since Becca was currently sleeping with one of the new prospects, Becca had some 'inside' information about the inner-workings of an organization neither of them had cared too much about when they were in high school. Maybe some people really did change.

"Just prepare yourself—that's all I'm sayin'…Jax is gonna be a fuckin' trainwreck after she moves to Chicago."

"So it's a done deal, then? I thought he was still trying to talk her out of it?" Isabelle frowned.

"I heard they've been fighting a lot and Tara isn't budging. Besides, she's supposed to leave in, like, a week so I don't think there's a whole lot left he can do."

"Well," she shook her head again. "We really shouldn't be talking about this…you know it isn't really any of our business, right?"

"You know I've always been a glutton for some good gossip. It's not like I ever get anything good from you so I gotta get my kicks somewhere else. Speaking of which, the clubhouse is throwing again on Friday…you should come, being a new employee and all." Becca winked at her conspiratorially.

"Oh, no," Isabelle rolled her eyes with a groan. "And watch you hump what's-his-name the whole night? No thank you."

"Come on," Becca pouted. "I've been trying to get you to come for weeks. Gemma said I could bring whoever I want anytime I want so it's not like it would be a big deal or anything."

"I don't think I would be very comfortable there…it'd be hard to let loose, you know? Especially since I'm going to be working there now. The last thing I want to do is go there and get shit-faced and throw up all over the bar…or someone's shoes again."

"Hey," Becca laughed. "We can laugh about that now. That happened, like, what? Five years ago? I'm sure he doesn't even remember that happened anyways…wait…is that really why you've been avoiding the clubhouse?"

"No," she replied a little too quickly. "I guess it's just that…I don't really know any of them. I've never really known any of them. It would be weird to just show up how many years after high school and try to party with them, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess I see your point," Becca conceded with a sigh and passed Isabelle her leftover cookie. "But maybe it would be good for you to try something new…broaden your horizons. You're all about that now anyways, right?"

Well, she had to give her best friend that one. But it wasn't like she'd ever really been friends with any of them—Jax, Tara, Opie, or even Donna, who'd always been pretty nice to her—and she wasn't sure how her attendance would be received anyways. It was strange how you could know of people you'd spent a good part of your life going to school with but never really know them at the same time.

"I just hope you like working there," Becca went on quietly. "You deserve that."

"Thanks," she smiled back weakly. "I guess the best I can hope for is that Jax forgot about that god-awful nickname he had for me…I absolutely hated that and he knew it."

She shook her head at the memory as Becca just chuckled. While she and Jax never really had their lockers by one another, never sat near the other during lunch, hardly ever saw each other in the halls, and barely had any classes together, he never wasted an opportunity to piss her off by calling her Iz. She didn't know why she hated it so much but hearing it, especially coming from the big, bad biker-boy, grated on every nerve in her body. It made her cringe a little just thinking about it. His taunts had usually gone something like "lookin' smokin' today, Iz" or "you got a shirt to go with that skirt, Iz?" or "hey, Iz, when do I get to see some of those high kicks?" It was beyond god-damn annoying and he knew exactly what to say to get under her skin. And she was about ninety-nine percent sure he'd cheated off of her on their American Lit. final senior year. Anyone that couldn't appreciate a poet like ee cummings was sorely missing out and he'd just bluffed his way through it. That had pissed her off too.

"Well, he's not the exact same person he was in high school and neither are you." Becca offered diplomatically.

She could only hope that was true…otherwise, this was going to be a trying tenure at Teller-Morrow.

"So what are you doing later tonight?" Becca asked quietly from across the table. "You up for a movie night or something?"

"Uh…I don't know; I'll have to see…"

Becca nodded sympathetically and smiled softly back at her. "Bad night yesterday?"

She didn't even know the half of it. Having to pick up your falling-down drunk father, who was letting grief and disappointment eat him alive, from a dirty, grungy bar on a bad side of town and somehow manage to get his drunk ass into bed before he passed out was more than just a bad night. It fucking sucked. But someone had to be there…someone had to make sure he was alright, even if he definitely wasn't alright now. She just had to hope that things would get better, that he'd find a way to forgive her, and that he'd find something to live for now that her mom was gone.

"Something like that, yeah," she pushed out with an exhale.

"You know you can call me, right? If you need some help…I could bring Juice along for an extra pair of hands in case he's too…" Becca trailed off quietly, realizing her error and Isabelle was grateful for it.

"It's fine…I'm fine. He's gonna be fine. He's just going through a rough time right now; that's it."

"You shouldn't have to be his caretaker though, Belle. You're the daughter—that shouldn't be your job right now; you should be..." Becca's voice trailed off quietly, like she knew she was crossing into dangerous territory.

Isabelle knew exactly what she had been about to say next—she should be finishing school instead. But the closer it came to September, the less she wished she really was going back. Sure, she'd loved being in college and everything that went along with it but when her mom got sick, all that shit fell by the wayside. Although her mom kept telling her to stay, to have fun with her friends—that she didn't need to be spending all her time in a hospital—the charm and excitement of college had vanished for her. That wasn't where she needed to be anymore and now that her mom wasn't here to force her hand, she didn't see a reason to continue. Truth be told, she'd never really been all that crazy about law school in the first place and it had just been a fallback plan until she could figure something else out. But when that never really happened, she'd just decided to go with it and make her dad happy. There was no point anymore. It hadn't felt right before her mom died and it sure as hell didn't feel right now. Life was too short to spend your whole life trying to make other people happy.

But her reasons for being back in Charming were more complicated than that. She was exactly where she needed to be right now. An almost crippling, terrifying fear told her that she was on the fast track towards losing another parent and if that was true, at least there might be something she could do this time to stop it.

"Well," Becca sighed, "I guess I should be getting back to the salon—my break's just about over. Text me if you change your mind about tonight, okay?"

"Sure, Bec," she smiled back. "Hey, thanks again for telling me about Teller-Morrow—I don't know what I would've done if I hadn't been able to find something so quickly."

"Don't worry about it," Becca waved off as she rose from her seat. "What kind of friend would I be if I didn't?"

"True."

She watched her best friend exit the coffee shop and felt herself sink a little deeper into her chair. A glance at the clock sent a loud sigh through her lips. She probably needed to go back now to check on him and make sure he was still breathing after last night. It was always a crapshoot of how the house would look after he'd spent the night drinking—sometimes it was his study that he completely destroyed, sometimes it was his bedroom or the kitchen and sometimes he just passed out on the couch with an empty bottle in his hand.

The grief counselor had told her shortly after the funeral that this kind of behavior wasn't entirely abnormal after a loss of this magnitude and that it would pass. Granted, the grief counselor was also unaware how that kind of behavior had escalated. Her mom had been the love of his life and if she had hit rock bottom by quitting school, throwing away years of tuition in the process, she could only imagine the pit of despair he'd sunk into. She'd been willing to give him some space and some time to get a handle on his grief. The problem was that he was getting worse—progressively worse—and she had no idea what to do when the bottom finally dropped out.

As hard as it was to watch him slowly drink his way towards an early death, she wasn't sure what else she could do other than to just be there for him. She hadn't been there for her mom like she should have been. She wouldn't abandon him—not when he threatened to kick her out, not when he threatened to cut her off, and not when he told her she was a disgrace to the family.

She had to believe that this new job at Teller-Morrow was the start of something new, something good. Maybe this time away from school would clear her head enough to pick up the pieces of her life and for her dad to steer away from the path of complete destruction. She didn't want to think about the alternative.

* * *

**A/N-**I hope you liked the first chapter! I tried not to add too much backstory to this first one and just tried to establish where the characters are at. Hopefully, you'll be willing to come along for this ride with me. Also, if anyone is interested in beta-ing this for me, please let me know either in a review or PM. I tried to find one the old fashioned way but that didn't pan out too well.

Anyways, please let me know what you thought. Any thoughts, comments, and/or concerns are greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading!


	2. Ice-Breaker

**A/N-**Thank you so much for all the amazing feedback! I was really blown away by the response to the last chapter...I really had no idea if anyone was going to like it or not. Anyways, here's the next installment; enjoy!

* * *

"So the last thing you need to do is just get the customer's signature, give them the yellow copy, and then give them their keys. Oh, and always make sure you walk them out the door and show them where their car is parked." Gemma explained, gesturing towards the parking lot as she spoke.

Well, so far so good. She was picking things up pretty quickly and at first glance, this job seemed like it was going to be okay. To be completely honest, she appreciated the fact that there was almost always zero downtime—there was always something to file, always something that needed to be ordered, always a customer to help or at least call—and she hadn't realized how much she thrived on always having something to do. Busyness was going to be her best friend now and it would be a welcome relief to help her take her mind off of all that other shit.

"So," Gemma went on quickly. "You think you got it? There's a customer coming soon—Jax is just about finished with his BMW—and I think you could handle it, if you think you're ready."

"Yeah, absolutely," Isabelle nodded. Even if she didn't think she was ready, the last thing she wanted to do right about now was give Gemma cause to wonder if she couldn't do this job. When Gemma handed her the print-out, she went over the mental check-list Gemma had been drilling into her all day and put her initials where they needed to go. She could practically feel Gemma looking over her shoulder and nodding in approval.

"Good—that looks great, Isabelle."

There was a hint of surprise in Gemma's voice, maybe even a little pride there too and she felt a surge of relief. There were too many ways this could have all gone badly and, although it was still just her first day, she had a good feeling about this. It was nice to finally have a good feeling about something again instead of always wondering when the other shoe was going to drop.

The door from inside the garage opened and Jax sauntered through with that easy swagger she remembered from high school. She hadn't really gotten a good look at him since her shift started and while Becca had told her Jax had changed, her first real glance at him told a slightly different story. He had a little more scruff on his chin than she remembered but he was still somehow managing to pull off that overly-long surfer-boy hair. When his piercing blue eyes rested firmly on her and his lips twisted into that cocky grin that had made all the girls swoon, she felt a familiar stirring in her stomach. As much as she'd hated the way he taunted her, she'd never been completely immune to his well-honed charms either. He was so good-looking it was almost a crime, almost sinful, and she'd forgotten just how treacherous it felt to look at him.

"Hey, Iz," Jax's lips curved as he spoke. And…there it was. Whatever spell he'd just had on her was broken now with one word. God, she fucking hated that nickname.

"Looks like I'll be seein' you around here," he went on as he walked up to the desk where she and Gemma stood. He passed a pair of keys to his mother but his eyes never left their target.

"Yeah, I guess so," she managed to push out. If they were going to have to work together, she figured she might as well make an effort to remain civil, even if it looked like he wasn't game for that.

"BMW's all set, Ma," Jax's eyes flitted over to his mother for a brief moment before settling his warm gaze once again on Isabelle and she felt her insides curl under the weight of it.

As he turned on his heel to leave, he waved good-bye with yet another curve of his lips and she felt a sudden urge to punch him in the face.  
"Nice seein' you, Iz—I take my break in about twenty, you in?"

They hadn't seen each other in over four years and yet it was like no time had passed at all. He was still the immature asshole he'd always been—and he still seemed to know exactly what to say to make her see red. Just like old fucking times.

Knowing that anything she could possibly say back to him would make her like a bitch in front of Gemma, she decided to act like an adult and hold her tongue. Jax was still her boss's son and she didn't want to do or say anything that would make Gemma regret hiring her.

But apparently, her silence was just the answer he was looking for and he winked at her—he fucking winked—as he strolled back out into the garage. When he was finally gone, she reflexively, almost instinctually, huffed out a long-held breath.

"Same old shit, different day, huh?" Gemma laughed at her side, clapping a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"He's exactly the same as I remembered," she exhaled and then her eyes widened when she realized what she'd just said. There were only so many ways Gemma could take that…

"You're absolutely right," Gemma just laughed heartily. "My son hasn't changed much and I suspect I'm gonna be apologizing for him a lot. But, you know, your honesty is pretty damn refreshing. I like that about you."

She wasn't exactly sure how she was supposed to take all that so she just nodded and smiled. "Thanks."

"His break isn't really in twenty minutes, by the way," Gemma shook her head with a grimace as she spoke. "I don't know why he said that just now—probably just tryin' to ruffle your feathers or something."

"Yeah, he liked to do that when we were in high school." She replied, running a hand through her hair with mounting anxiety. "I probably shouldn't make it so easy on him."

Gemma just shrugged and flipped her hair from around her shoulder. "Probably best to just ignore him. He's been a moody son of a bitch lately and I have a feeling it's about to get worse."

Isabelle nodded, not really wanting to get into the Tara subject. Gemma's dislike for her son's girlfriend practically oozed from her pores and to be completely honest, if she was Gemma, she'd probably feel the same way. Any woman who tried to convince your only living son into moving across the country would be an enemy in Isabelle's book too. On the other hand, she couldn't blame Tara for wanting to leave, even if it meant leaving Jax behind—she'd felt suffocated by the small-town mentality all throughout high school too and had been just bursting at the seams to finally bust out of Charming. But like she'd told Becca the day before, circumstances had changed and she didn't really feel that way about Charming anymore. It still felt like home—shit memories and all. But if Tara needed to leave, for whatever the case may be, she supposed she couldn't really fault her for that.

About an hour later, Gemma practically kicked her out the door to take a break. Granted, her head was swimming with new information and procedures and it probably showed. A little air and some Mountain Dew wouldn't kill her and it was a good opportunity to clear her head. After grabbing her purse, she hit up the snack and soda machine on her way out and headed straight for the empty picnic table outside the garage.

Her shift was barely half over—and she was already feeling just a little overwhelmed with all the information Gemma was throwing at her—but she could do this. Actually, she kind of liked working here. Gemma, in spite of the rough exterior, was patient and it felt like she was picking up on the necessities of the job pretty quickly—which was a far cry from her last outing in part-time employment. Customer service came pretty naturally to her, maybe it had something to do with being surrounded by lawyers her entire life, and for the most part, it seemed like this job was just what she needed until she figured out the where the hell she was going from here.

With a sigh, she cracked open her soda can and ripped open the bag of pretzels, happily snacking away until she noticed her phone flashing. Quickly flipping through her messages—two from Becca and one from her dad, which was a surprise—and then her eyes fell on three new messages from Dan. Her fingers itched to toss the phone across the table in agitation. Jesus Christ, why couldn't he just take the hint? They were over…and she'd thought that was perfectly clear when she'd left Stanford for Charming after her last final in May. She just didn't have room—and energy—in her life right now for a long distance relationship that would never work anyways.

She knew she had to say something; she'd already tried the avoidance method and that was an epic fail. He just didn't understand why they'd had to break up and she was too chicken shit to tell that other than the fact that her life had unraveled six months earlier, she just didn't love him. She might've loved him in the beginning, when things were complication free, but when push came to shove and her mom was lying in a hospital bed, Dan wasn't the person she wanted to call. And deep down, that wasn't entirely a surprise.

When she read his messages, it was hard not to bang her head into the damn picnic table.

_I miss u so much. I just want to talk. Give me a chance._

_Please, Isabelle. Just call me back._

_I love u._

The pleas of a desperate ex-boyfriend were exactly that—desperate. And exasperating. And a little pathetic. All she could do was attempt to placate him enough to get him to back off—the last thing she needed right about now was for him to show up here in Charming and try to convince her to come back to school. That wouldn't end well for either of them and she would do anything in her power to spare them both the humiliation.

A flash of movement to her left caught her eye and she looked up, startled to see Tara walking towards the garage. It was almost unnerving to see how little she had changed since the last time Isabelle had seen her. While she looked a little bit harder and a little bit more solemn than she remembered, Tara looked almost exactly the same. It was like she'd been frozen in time—like a record on continual replay—and for a moment, it was almost painful look at her. Tara looked absolutely miserable.

Tara's eyes widened as she drew closer to the picnic table and Isabelle wasn't sure if it was out of shock or horror to see her sitting there. She could feel the judgment weighing down Tara's stare and knew exactly what she must be thinking. For someone who seemed to want to leave Charming more than anything, regardless of who drowned in her wake, Isabelle imagined Tara was having a difficult time figuring out why the hell she had come back. She figured it was a fair question. Not like Tara would ever ask her.

"Hey, Isabelle," Tara started slowly, almost hesitantly as she approached the picnic table. It was a sign of good will, even it was a faux one, and Isabelle could appreciate the effort.

"Hi, Tara," she nodded back. She was about to ask how Tara was doing but quickly caught herself. The answer was written all over her anguished face.

Tara shifted uncomfortably and shoved her hands in her pockets. "So…um, Jax told me you were working here now. Today's your first day, right?"

A prickle of annoyance crept up the back of Isabelle's neck. She could only imagine what Jax had told his girlfriend…they'd probably laughed together about the poetic justice of the cheerleader's fall from grace. She knew exactly how it must look and had to swallow back another prickle of irritation. She was drawing on a lot of assumptions here and it was doubtful Tara actually meant anything by it. After all, Tara was too wrapped up in her own drama with Jax to probably care too much about anyone else's.

"Uh, yeah," she offered back awkwardly, playing with the edge of her pretzel bag as she spoke.

"So…everything's goin' okay so far, right?" Tara replied softly, chewing on the side of her cheek.

"Yeah, thanks for asking."

"Good…that's great. So, um, I'm looking for Jax. He's in the garage, right?"

"Yeah," Isabelle nodded. "I'm sure he was going to take his break soon anyways."

Tara's face brightened a little at her words and the first genuine expression Isabelle had seen from her crossed her face. "Okay, thanks."

She'd already turned to head towards the garage when Tara stopped short and turned back to her. "Hey, Isabelle…I'm really sorry about your mom. I've never gotten a chance to tell you and…" She trailed off nervously and started chewing on her bottom lip again.

"Thanks, Tara." She just nodded back to her.

Tara pressed a force smile onto her lips before heading back towards the garage in search of Jax. When she disappeared inside, Isabelle finally felt herself relax and blew out an agitated breath. While it was just small talk, and to be fair, this seemed like a genuine attempt on Tara's part to be friendly, it still grated on her nerves. She wasn't quite sure what it was about their exchange that bothered her so much. Maybe it was the fact that they'd never been friends, had barely spoke to one another in high school, and fake sincerity was never a game she'd been good at playing. Tara, apparently, was an old pro.

It was only a few minutes later, when she'd returned her attention to trying to figure out what the hell she was going to say to Dan to get him to leave her alone, that Tara practically sprinted out of the garage and charged blindly for her car. Isabelle braced herself for Jax to come barreling out after her but that didn't happen. No fireworks today, then. But whatever Tara had come there to say or do obviously hadn't gone as she'd planned.

Jax did appear about thirty seconds later but he wasn't chasing Tara down. Instead, he hung back a few feet away from the garage's entrance and watched her car pull out of the parking lot, a mask of ice shielding his true emotions from any on-lookers. He shoved a hand into his back pocket, groping deep inside until he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She watched him puff away anxiously until it was just a nub between his fingers and then he flicked it away like he was disgusted with himself.

She felt a little awkward just sitting back and watching this whole scene—granted, it had been played out in public but there was nothing about it that should've ever been seen by the public. But she still had ten minutes left of her break, she reminded herself, and she had just as much a right to be there as anyone. It wasn't her fault they chose to play out their overly drawn-out breakup for everyone to witness.

When Jax's cold gaze flitted over to the picnic table, she immediately looked down, her heart dropping down into her stomach at getting caught watching him. What had just happened here was absolutely none of her business and they weren't friends. But it shocked her nonetheless when she realized he was swinging his leg over the side of the bench to join her at the picnic table.

"What's up, Iz." It wasn't really a question and she suspected he didn't really want to know the answer either.

"Hey, Jax," she offered softly, her eyes focused firmly on the Mountain Dew can in front of her.

She wasn't sure if that garnered a reaction from him and even though she had no idea what was going on between him and Tara, his sudden nearness was a little unsettling. Why had he bothered to come over here? What did he expect her to do?

Without any other straws to grasp at, she figured she might as lay it all out on the table. If he was already in a bad mood, maybe it wouldn't take much to get him to leave her alone today.

"Hey Jax?"

He glanced up at her with expectant eyes, almost daring her to challenge him with something—anything to get his mind off of what had just happened.

"Yeah, Iz?"

She fought back a shudder of annoyance and bit out: "Do you think you could do me a favor? I would really appreciate it if you stopped calling me Iz, okay?"

He frowned, leaning forward to grab a handful of her pretzels. "What's wrong with calling you Iz?"

"I just don't like it," she shrugged.

"Well, shit, if you didn't like it that much, you should've said somethin' a long time ago," he grinned back, that cocky, self-righteous light sliding right back into his eyes. "Guess that means that deep down, Iz, you actually like it—you just don't wanna admit it."

Her eyes narrowed. "That's not what I said."

"I know what you said," Jax just shrugged. "I just think you don't really meant it."

"Sure…whatever."

Her fists curled into tight, white balls underneath the table and she fought the urge to kick him. Why did she let him do this to her? He knew he was pissing her off and he was enjoying it too. She knew exactly what this was…he needed a distraction from Tara and he was willing to take it anyway he could get it. It was like he was bi-polar or something…hot and cold, sullen and then cocky. Well, she wasn't looking to be anyone's distraction today or any day, for that matter. Well, screw him.

When he reached inside his back pocket for another cigarette, she just about lost it.

"Do you mind not lighting that up?" She spat out hotly.

His face twisted into what looked like a snarl and he tugged a hand through his hair in clear frustration. "What, I can't light up a smoke now too, Iz? Wow…you're really off to a great start here…it's a free fuckin' country, you know."

In light of recent events in both their lives, she wished she could overlook everything that was wrong about what he'd just said. But because she was pissed and because she felt like being a bitch to go with his shitty attitude, she abruptly scrambled to her feet and snatched her pretzel bag off the table. As she stalked back to the office, she muttered under her breath when she passed him:

"Asshole."

* * *

The venom in her voice was unmistakable when Isabelle stormed away from him. For a fleeting moment, Jax wondered if he was going to have to deal with women stomping around, pissed and disappointed with him his whole life. He'd had just about enough of that shit today—and Tara's short visit had already set him on edge. But as he brought the cigarette to his lips, Jax realized his true error with a sickening thud in his stomach—Isabelle's mom had literally just died from lung cancer. Of course she'd have an aversion to cigarettes right about now.

He really was an asshole.

For the last few weeks, he'd felt like he was hovering over his own body, watching his life scatter into a thousand pieces right before his eyes. And because he had no idea how to salvage it, he'd been saying and doing a lot of shit lately that he didn't really mean. That shit had just been uncalled for—he'd let this fucked-up situation with Tara, which was quickly spiraling out of his control, completely mess with his head and now he'd taken it out on someone who didn't deserve it. Especially not that shit.

He quickly scrambled off the bench, almost tripping over it and landing on his ass in the process, and called out to her: "Hey Iz…shit, Isabelle…"

Her shoulders tensed at the sound of his voice and he knew it was going to take more than a simple apology to make amends for his mistake. When she just kept on the path towards the office, he decided to jog after her—all he wanted to do was just apologize, even if she didn't want to listen to him. Not that he'd blame her right about now.

"Isabelle, wait up," he huffed out as he came up alongside her. His hand reflexively reached out to touch her arm but she quickly jerked it away from his grasp. Her lips were set in a firm, grim line but it was her icy blue eyes that held all her emotions—she looked like she was about to punch him right in the face. Part of him almost wished she would.

"What do you want, Jax?" She spat back at him.

"Look," he started quickly, holding his hands up in the air in defense. "I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have said that and…"

He trailed off, realizing that they were currently standing in front of the garage—in complete view of everyone inside it. He'd been humiliated enough since they'd already seen his intense, albeit brief, argument with Tara minutes before. He didn't want his brothers to see him get into it with two women today—even if he had this one coming to him.

"Can you just come back to the table, please?" He pleaded with her. "I'm an asshole—I'm a jackass, I know, I know…just—I don't need you bein' pissed at me too, okay?"

He winced a little when the words flew out of his mouth—everything he said was painfully true and he wondered briefly if he was always going to be feeling this way now, if he was always going to be feeling like he was out of his body.

"Can I buy you another soda or something?" He offered to force her hand. "You still have some time left on your break, right? Don't blow it just because I'm an asshole."

He watched as she shifted anxiously from side to side, clearly torn on how to play this. The expression on her face moved from pissed to confused to weary all in the span of about two seconds and then she blew out a deep sigh.

"Well, I was eyeing up the Gardetto's too…" she replied softly, looking away at the cracks in the pavement to avoid eye contact with him.  
"Gardetto's it is then," he grinned back to her, even if she couldn't see it. He jogged back inside the garage to grab her request and when he retreated back outside, she was already seated back at the picnic table. He blew out the breath he hadn't known he was holding, a little relief washing over him—something he hadn't felt in a while.

If they were going to have to work together, he didn't want her to hate him. Maybe if he was able to make amends with this olive branch—in the form of a bag of Gardetto's—they could go back to the old banter he'd happily engaged in with her in high school. As he approached the picnic table, she was looking at something on her phone and his lips twisted a little at this avoidance tactic—he'd become very familiar with it lately himself, too. But then her fingers flew furiously over the keys and he wondered if she was taking out her anger towards him on her phone instead.

She tossed her phone back into her purse with a frustrated huff as he hovered over the picnic table directly across from her. After gingerly setting the bag in front of her, he gestured towards the bench in front of him.

"Is it alright if I sit?"

"It's a free country," she just shrugged as she tore open the bag and popped a few chips in her mouth.

He figured that was as good as he was going to get right now and decided to take it. But when he swung his legs over the side of the bench and positioned himself directly in front of her, he realized he didn't really know where to go from here. Well, at least it had seemed like a good plan at the time…

His eyebrows rose when her phone buzzed loudly from inside her purse. He watched with mild amusement as her lips pressed into a grimace and she gritted her teeth as she swore underneath her breath.

"Jesus Christ..." she muttered, quickly reading over whatever text message she was currently swearing over.

"Everything alright over there?" He tossed out lightly, figuring he might as well try to have a civil conversation with her.

Another agitated breath blew out of her nose and she chewed anxiously on her lip as she read over the text again and he wondered if she'd even heard him.

"It's nothing," she replied finally and then tossed her phone haphazardly back into her purse.

"Sure didn't look like nothin' to me…" he pressed on with a slight shrug.

"Well, that's what it was," Isabelle pushed out quietly before returning her attention to the bag of chips in her hands.

A few moments of silence later and he thought his head was going to explode. The fact was—he just didn't really know what to say to her. He'd completely shoved his head up his ass before and now he didn't know how the hell he was supposed to come back from that. He did, however, know that the absolute last thing she needed to hear was any sort of condolences about her mom. Although JT had been dead and gone for almost six years and the emptiness didn't feel like it was going to swallow him whole anymore, he remembered what it was like to lose a parent with brutal clarity.

He'd hated anytime someone told him how sorry they were about his dad—how good of a guy he was, how much they missed him—it was just one more reminder in a long list of many of what he'd lost and was never going to get back. He wasn't going to make that mistake with her, especially since it had happened over six months ago. By now, he figured she probably wanted to move forward rather than backward and it was pretty hard to do that when everyone kept bringing your shit up all the time.

So if he couldn't bring up her mom, which he wasn't going to, he just felt like he was treading water right now—barely keeping his head above the surface.

"So…" she broke the silence with a tiny smile and he grinned widely back at her, grateful for the respite. "What else is new in Charming? I heard Opie and Donna are getting married soon…she's pregnant too, right?"

He rubbed his chin and nodded, smiling at the memory of his best friend finding out life as he knew it was over. Ope's face had shifted abruptly from white to green to white again and finally red when he realized that the entire garage was staring at them, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, after Donna had blurted out the news in front of everyone.

"Yeah, she is," he laughed.

"That's pretty crazy…I mean, I can't even imagine getting married right now let alone having to be responsible for another human being." She exhaled with a shake of her head.

"Yeah, you and me both, Iz," his eyes widened when he realized what he'd just done. "Shit, I mean, Isabelle…I'm sorry…it's a habit; won't happen again, darlin'."

Her blue eyes narrowed at him. "I'm not sure which is worse—you calling me Iz or darlin'."

"Aw, come on," his mouth twisted a little as he spoke. "I gotta call you somethin'—and I honestly didn't know that bothered you so much…I mean, sure, I knew it pissed you off but not like that. You should've said somethin' a long time ago."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Right, if I had told you how many years ago, you really expect me to believe you would've stopped?"

He didn't even need to take a second to consider it. "Yeah, you're probably right. That probably would've just made it worse actually."

She abruptly flung a pretzel at him in response and he laughed as he ducked out of the way. Well, at least she wasn't putting her fist through his jaw. Not that he wouldn't have deserved it…

When her phone buzzed again in her purse, her facial expression was priceless. It was somewhere in between frustrated and horrified and he had to bite back a laugh when she squeezed her eyes shut before gingerly sliding the offensive object back out of her purse. He watched in anticipation as her eyes scanned the new message and then lifted to the sky with a soft shake of her head.

"Come on," he grinned. "That's not nothin'…you gotta tell me now."

She sighed as she flipped her phone back into her purse without sending off a response. "It's just a guy who can't take a hint."

Ah. Now that made sense. It looked like relationship troubles were floating around in abundance these days.

"Ex-boyfriend or just one who wants to be?" He asked out of sheer curiosity.

"Ex," she replied flatly, her frustration evident just from the tone of her voice. "He doesn't really get why I broke up with him or why I won't come back to school, for that matter."

Although he recognized her words as a potential opening into her departure from Stanford—of all places—he decided it was best not to push her. With his recent track-record with her, he figured he should probably quit while he was at least a little ahead. Besides, he'd learned through experience that a person will only tell you something when they want to—and he wasn't the kind of guy that liked to pry into someone else's business anyways. Instead, he chose to steer his focus on this guy who clearly couldn't understand that no meant no.

"So what is he sayin'?"

She exhaled deeply before turning her weary eyes back towards him and he couldn't help but smile. This was the first time, he realized, that they'd ever really sat down and had a real conversation. It was kind of nice. When he wasn't being a complete asshole, of course.

"The usual, I guess. He thinks we can work it out but there's really nothing to work out. It's done and I'm not going back to school. He just won't listen to me." There was a hint of something in her voice—a hint of worry or fear, maybe—that triggered his instincts.

"You're not scared of this guy, right?"

Her face twisted down in confusion and her mouth slipped open a little as she considered his words. "What do you mean?"

"Well…he never hurt you anything like that, right? I don't know…you just seem like you're nervous or something about this guy."

Recognition flickered across her features and then she let out a low, almost alarming laugh. "Oh…no, no. I don't think Dan has an aggressive bone in his body. He's more of the…non-violent type."

He nodded, feeling a short spurt of relief shoot through him. "Good…for a second there, I thought I was gonna have to go beat the shit out of him or somethin'."

"Oh really?" She replied slyly with a cocked eyebrow. "Yeah, he shows up here and you tackle him—I can just see it now—I'm sure you guys would get along just great. I don't think that will be necessary."

"Well," he shrugged. "Gotta protect a fellow TM employee, you know."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Sure, all you gotta do is ask, Iz." She flung another chip at him and he playfully held up his hands in defense. "Alright, alright, that one was on purpose. That was the last time, I promise."

"Good," she laughed. "I fuckin' hated that nickname."

"Wow," he chuckled. "I think that was the first time I've ever heard you say that."

"What, good?" she retorted with as she bit back a snicker.

He snatched up the chip she'd just tossed his way and snapped it back at her with a twisted grin.

"So what are you gonna do about this guy, then?" He nodded towards her phone as he spoke.

"I honestly don't know…nothing I say seems to get the point across and then when I ignore him altogether, it just makes it worse."

"Did you try tellin' him that you were with somebody else? That would probably make me back off if I were him."

She shifted uncomfortably in the bench across from him and he found himself rubbing the back of his neck a little to shake off his own sudden discomfort. Putting himself in her ex-boyfriend's shoes was an awkward position to be in—he hadn't meant for it to get weird; he was just grateful she was still here talking to him and had once again stuck his foot directly up his ass.

"I don't know," she replied finally. "I'm not sure if he'd buy that…I don't really wanna lie to him either."

"Short of tellin' him to fuck off completely…maybe it's worth a try, ya know?"

"Yeah, maybe," she replied absentmindedly, glancing at her phone from inside her purse. "Hey, well, my break's just about done. Thanks for the chips, Jax…you didn't have to do that."

His eyes followed her as she rose from the bench and gathered her things from the table. When she set off towards the office, he called after her: "No problem, Isabelle. It was nice talkin' to you."

Her head turned back to him for only a moment but it was long enough for him to see that she shared his sentiment. A brief smile crossed her lips as she waved back to him and then a moment later, she was walking through the office door, headed back for another installment of training with his mother. He squared his shoulders back to where she'd been sitting and another moment later, the short relief he'd felt was long gone. There was no one here to talk to, no one to take his mind off of the mounting panic he felt with each day that passed.

It really had been nice to talk to her—to talk to someone whose eyes weren't brimming with judgment or sympathy…he wasn't sure which one was worse at this point. Her anger and frustration towards both him and that dipshit ex of hers was alarmingly refreshing. It had numbed him for only a matter of minutes but it was nice for once to spend some energy on someone else's problems rather his own.

Maybe they could reach some sort of mutual understanding and actually be civil towards one another. And right about now, he really needed a little civility.

* * *

Isabelle pushed through the front door, her head pounding from a long day of information overload, and a pile of mail in her hands. Gratefully kicking off her shoes, she tossed her keys and her purse onto the kitchen table and flipped through the envelopes in her hand. She was stalling, she knew, but lately, she found herself dreading coming home for fear of what she would find.

A loud crash echoed from down the hall and her heart just about dropped into her stomach. With an abrupt turn, she took off down the hallway and sped across the house until she found her dad keeled over in the bathroom with one hand still resting on the toilet seat. Immediately taking an inventory of his condition—she'd gotten used to being able to gauge just how bad it was—and quickly noted his shallow breathing. He was asleep.

She squeezed her eyes shut and ran a hand over her face, trying to decide if she should attempt to move him. She was more likely to throw out her back then actually get him into his bed so with a heavy, sick feeling in her stomach, she grabbed some pillows and a blanket from the hall closet. Her dad still hadn't moved when she stepped through the bathroom's threshold again and she wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

With careful movements, she gingerly lifted his leaden head and shifted the pillow underneath him. Then she lightly laid the fleece blanket around him, making sure it was pulled all the way up to his neck. He'd most likely be out like this for at least a few more hours, if not the rest of the night, and she didn't want him to wake up shivering on the bathroom floor. At least he'd be warm on the bathroom floor.

This was only going to get worse. She just knew it, deep down to the ebbing sickness in her stomach. And short of screaming at him to get his shit together and forcing him to the hospital—both of which she'd tried and failed at already—there wasn't much else she could do for him other than to just be there.

Wouldn't he eventually realize what he was doing to himself? Wouldn't he eventually realize that this would've broken her mom's heart…to see him so sunken into himself? Being around her dad was like watching a train about two minutes before it ran off the rails—you knew it was coming and you knew there was nothing you could do about it, but you still couldn't look away either.

If anything, it was for the best that she'd found him like this, already out cold on the floor. If he'd been awake when she came home, she would've just had to listen to him slur out all the ways she'd disappointed him—and all the ways she'd disappointed her mom. How she'd thrown away her future, how she had zero respect for him, for his colleagues who'd written letters of recommendation for her, how she had zero sense of responsibility or ownership towards anything, and how if she didn't get her life together, he was going to throw her out of his house in disgust.

Well, wasn't that just the pot calling the kettle black, she thought bitterly. She could easily toss all those things right back in his face but he wouldn't hear it, wouldn't even register the truth. He wasn't ready to see that he was on the verge of losing his job, not to mention his health, because he'd allowed himself to be swallowed whole by his grief. And despite all his ranting about how disrespectful she was, she could never bring herself to disrespecting him by saying all that to his face.

But there was no communication and no effort in their relationship anymore, at least not where he was concerned. No family counseling, no life coaching, nothing. Everything she suggested was just thrown out the window like it was the stupidest idea he'd ever heard. He didn't need counseling, he'd said. He didn't need anyone to tell him how to live his life or what he was doing wrong in his life. He already knew it, he'd told her; he was already very aware of his own failings.

The only thing she knew she couldn't do was call the police. It would destroy what little was left of his career and it wasn't like it would do much good anyways. That wouldn't change anything and it definitely wouldn't make an already shot to shit situation any better. He'd probably never speak to her again too.

With a deep sigh, she retreated back out into the hallway and fell onto the couch. Knowing a little noise wouldn't stir her dad, she switched on the TV and started flipping mindlessly through the channels—nothing really interested her, nothing that could take her mind off of the sleeping figure in the bathroom anyways. It was a wonder that she found herself wishing it was tomorrow already so she could get out of the house and back to Teller-Morrow. At least being there gave her something to do instead of just sitting here and waiting for something horrible to happen.

So far, working there was nothing like she'd been expecting—granted, she hadn't been exactly sure what to expect but she definitely hadn't anticipated such an easy transition. Gemma was already trusting her with customers which was a very good sign and other than the mild drama with Jax and Tara in the morning, it was a pretty calm, uneventful day. She wondered ruefully if they had too many days there like that.

And despite the initial tension with Jax, he'd eventually actually been half-way decent to talk to—which had surprised her more than anything else that had happened today. He'd genuinely seemed to care that he'd upset her and hadn't just blown it off with a lame apology then went back to work. No…he'd actually made an effort to make amends and she appreciated that. Having a conversation with him wasn't so bad either—he'd proven he was actually able to go more than two seconds without making some sort of asshole comment, even if it was more towards the end of their conversation than the beginning. Maybe he had changed after all.

There was something about him that was slightly more mature than she remembered. A little more grown-up. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was finally patched into Samcro like he'd always been bragging about but she suspected it had more to do with the fact that his relationship was crumbling right before his eyes. It was only a matter of time before Tara finally left—she'd noticed that everyone seemed to be walking on eggshells around him and even Gemma hadn't been above the tip-toeing act. There were literally only a few days, maybe a week, before Tara would have to choose once and for all if she was going to stay or go. She had a sinking feeling she knew exactly what Tara's ultimate decision would be and she would be willing to bet that everyone else but Jax knew it too. But maybe he did—maybe that was why he'd chosen not to chase after her today, that he knew she was on her way out anyways—and something about that broke her heart.

She just wished Tara would get on with it already and put Jax—and everyone else—out of his misery. There was only so much drama she could handle in her life anyways.

* * *

**A/N-**Just in case anyone is worried about Tara, she's not going to be hanging around much longer. She kinda needs to leave in order for this story to keep moving but I tried not to make her a huge bitch-just someone who wasn't finding what they needed in Charming and hopefully, that came across. Things are about to get pretty dark and heavy for Jax...please let me know what you thought of this chapter! Your feedback really keeps me going!


	3. Gone

**A/N-Quick note...I decided to change the rating. It was getting too difficult to get inside Jax's head and keep it "T". Hope that's okay with everyone. Enjoy!**

* * *

"So…you're sure there's no way I can get out of this, right?"

"Nope," Becca replied curtly and just continued applying yet another layer of black mascara. Isabelle watched, more than a little miffed, while Becca put the finishing touches on her eye makeup and ran a long finger underneath her eye to pick up the excess.

She huffed a little, hoping to garner some sort of reaction from Becca and received nothing but silence. At this point, Isabelle was willing to do just about anything to get herself out of going to this Samcro party. How the hell had Becca talked her into this in the first place? She'd just been minding her own business, listening to Becca rave and squeal about how "awesome" Juice was in bed when Becca suddenly turned the tables on her and told her she was coming to the party tonight. Isabelle had blinked once, unsure if she'd heard her right but when Becca just shrugged her shoulders like it was a done deal, an overwhelming sense of dread flooded her stomach. When Becca had her mind set on something—come hell or high water—it was happening. And that was what Isabelle was worried about.

The clubhouse was the absolute last place she wanted to be tonight for a number of headache-inducing reasons. But no matter how much she protested, no matter how much she pleaded and begged, she had a sinking feeling that she was going tonight whether she liked it or not. Well, if she was going down, she might as well go down trying.

"Seriously, though, Becca," she attempted again. "I really don't think this is a good idea tonight—"

"Why?" Becca turned to her abruptly and wagged a tube of lip gloss in front of her face. "Because you've only been there once before and it was, like, ages ago? Or because you're worried you might actually have some fun for once?"

Isabelle just rolled her eyes and slumped down on the toilet seat for added dramatic effect. She had a feeling this was an argument she wasn't going to be winning. "Well, for starters, there's the whole Jax-shit-show situation. I'm not so sure I want to be around for that tonight."

Becca's hand froze in mid-air as she brought the lip gloss wand to her lips like she'd just remembered. It was actually pretty difficult to forget but maybe that was just because Isabelle worked at the garage and had had a clear view of the impact, albeit from a safe distance away. But Becca's reaction told her this might be an angle that was worth playing.

"Oh yeah…I kinda forget about that. Yeah, that should be interesting tonight. But—that's no reason why you shouldn't come tonight. In fact, I think it's even more reason—don't you want to see Jax falling down drunk on his ass?"

"No, actually, I don't." Isabelle replied simply. And it was the honest truth.

"I thought you guys don't really get along…why would it matter?"

"That has nothing to do with it," she waved a hand dismissively at Becca's suggestion. "Why would anyone want to watch that tonight? It's gonna be horrible—his girlfriend just deserted him, what, literally three days ago? It's going to be like watching a goddamn train wreck tonight and I don't really wanna have to see that."

Although just about everyone in Charming had seen it coming, seeing Tara actually go through with leaving was still a bit of a shock. Part of her had expected Tara to chicken out at the very last minute—to board the plane, realize her mistake at the last possible moment, and then rush back to the garage and jump into Jax's arms…just like a movie. But it wasn't a movie, at least not for Jax. Tara had slammed the door to the clubhouse one last time, ducked her head into the waiting cab, and had never looked back. That was three days ago and according to the murmuring going around the garage, Jax had yet to surface from his clubhouse dorm for longer than minutes at a time. Becca had told her—after hearing it from Juice—that Jax had only answered his door once, just for Gemma, and had promptly thrown her out after about two minutes. It was clear he needed space and everyone else was either too understanding or too frightened of his reaction to push him any further.

"Yeah, I guess I see your point," Becca conceded quietly and she looked down into the sink for a moment. A second later, her sparking brown eyes snapped back up to stare her down through the mirror. "But still—that's hardly any reason to skip out on me tonight. Don't get me wrong; I understand your concern. I really do. But what's the alternative for you, huh? It's a Friday night for God's sake. You need to live a little bit, Belle; let your frickin' hair down, ya know? And don't give me that shit about not wanting to party where you work. Almost everyone who parties at the clubhouse either works for Samcro or is connected to Samcro somehow—you might as well join in and have some fun for a change."

Isabelle knew that little pep talk was intended to rile her up, to convince her to embrace being young for a change. As much as she hated to admit it, Becca was right. If she fought and scratched her way out of tagging along, the alternative was waiting for her dad to call for a ride home from whatever establishment he chose to park it at tonight. To add insult to injury, she knew all too well about what time her dad would call—right at bar close as usual—and that she would still have plenty of time to spend at the clubhouse before her dad would call. There really wasn't a way out tonight and she knew it. Still—one last try…

"Well," she pushed out hurriedly. "What happens when my dad calls me needing a ride home? You know I can't let him call a cab and—"

"Maybe Juice will be able to get someone to pick up for you so you don't have to worry about it."

Wow, Becca was just on a problem-solving roll today.

"No," she needed to put her foot down at that. Becca was very aware that she needed to be the one to take him home—even if it was just so that she could see for herself that he was alright and still breathing. "You know I can't do that, Bec. Maybe I'll just stay for a little bit and then go home and then—"

"No!" Becca practically shouted frantically in her face. "You can't do that! Just…have a few drinks, right? Just enough to have fun and then stop after what, midnight or something like that and then you'll be good whenever he calls, okay? I'll come with you if want—"

"No, I wouldn't want to steal you away from your boy-toy," Isabelle waved it off, able to recognize defeat when it was staring her in the face.

Becca's face lit up—she'd clearly realized that she'd just won. "So I take it that means you've officially resigned to a night of awesomeness?"

Isabelle just shrugged and took the tube of lip gloss from Becca's outstretched hand. "I'm not sure I would go that far but I don't see a way out of this."

"Yay!" Becca squealed and tossed her arms around her in victory. Isabelle didn't even bother returning the hug—resistance was futile anyways and she'd learned that years ago when it came to Becca's ability to talk her into doing just about anything.

"Will you just promise me you'll try to have fun?" Becca was whispering in her ear now. "I mean, you look smokin' hot tonight—you're rockin' those heels and showing just enough cleavage to have some serious fun, Belle. You gotta embrace that…please…."

She glanced down at her attire with a cocked eyebrow, still unsure about the ensemble she'd haphazardly pieced together. With four-inch nude heels, black skinny jeans, and a shiny silver top, she looked like she was ready for a night at the clubs—and not the clubhouse. Even though it had over five years since she'd been in the clubhouse, it wasn't easy to wipe the images of the girls there from her mind. Smeared makeup, barely-there skirts and too-tight tank tops seemed to be the accepted uniform there for…what were they called again? Crow-eaters? As disgusting and misogynistic as it was, it was, unfortunately, an accurate description of the women who frequented the clubhouse. She'd made it her mission to wear as much clothing tonight as possible so there would be no confusion over what she was and what she definitely wasn't. While Becca was right—she needed to let loose a little tonight—there was no way she was going to let herself get that loose and her outfit needed to send that message loud and clear.

So, maybe, even as she'd chosen her outfit, she'd known exactly where this night was headed after all. Shit.

"I'm not gonna make any promises I can't keep, you know," Isabelle stated matter-of-factly. "I will go to the clubhouse with you, have a drink or two, and when my dad calls, I'm going to leave, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am," Becca mock-saluted. "Wouldn't dare hope that you'll actually have fun."

She just rolled her eyes. "Right."

Less than an hour later, she was parking the Trans Am in TM's parking lot and Becca was bouncing next to her, clearly unable to conceal her elation. Well, at least one of them was excited. As they stepped out onto the pavement, it took her a second to remind her feet how to walk in high heels. It had definitely been awhile since the need for heels had presented itself and she was starting to regret talking herself into wearing them tonight. She was already on edge enough the way it was and adding concern over her ability to walk tonight wasn't going to help the situation. Still, she dutifully followed Becca up to the main entrance and was immediately assaulted by ear-splitting music as an almost-stomach churning aroma of smoke and alcohol wafted from underneath the door.

Even though she'd spent the last week here at TM, she'd never really thought too much about what went on at the clubhouse at night. It was just easier to put it out of sight, out of mind in order to concentrate on the job at hand and then all the excitement—or rather, catastrophe—had disturbed the generally peaceful environment she'd been enjoying in the office. But now as the clubhouse loomed treacherously at her high-heel clad feet, it was near terrifying. This wasn't like other parties she'd been to and definitely not like the parties she'd been to in college—and she had to shamefully admit that she didn't remember much about the last time she'd been to a Samcro party.

No…this was a whole different kind of beast and as her feet toed along the threshold of the clubhouse, she might as well have been stepping inside a foreign country. It didn't matter that she had spent a week with most of the people inside already—that was different. At night, she imagined the people inside morphed into something else entirely…or maybe they were just…enhanced a little more. A little more larger than life than they already seemed.

Jesus Christ, she huffed a little as Becca pulled her through the door, this wasn't one of those horrible Twilight movies or anything. They weren't vampires and they wouldn't turn into werewolves or zombies or anything like that. There was nothing to be afraid of inside the clubhouse walls. She just needed to have a good time, unwind, let loose—just like Becca had said. That was what she needed to focus on now.

So with a deep breath, she glanced down one more time at her outfit—even though it was far too late to make any changes to it now—and knew she looked good tonight. She was ready to have fun. She was ready to make some new friends. She was ready to live a little.

* * *

It felt like someone had reached down into his stomach, twisted it up around, and pulled it out through his spine. Jax felt like he was fire. No…it felt like he was fucking dying. Everything hurt—every blink, every breath, every slight movement and he felt himself die a little more inside. For three days, he'd sat on the floor of his dorm room and stared at the wall like a zombie. He'd hardly touched any of the food he knew Gemma had been leaving for him. He hadn't slept more than an hour at a time. He'd barely moved long enough to feel alive.  
At first, he hadn't believed her. Couldn't believe that she was really leaving—that everything he'd been dreading had finally, abruptly become his living nightmare. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Tara's face when she told him there was a cab waiting outside to take her to the airport. The anger, the hurt, and the disappointment eroded away for a flash of hope. A last fluttering of a chance that he might change his mind and follow her. And for a second, he almost did.

He almost reached for her—his fingers had been practically tingling he'd wanted to touch her so bad. But then he remembered what she was asking him to do, what she was demanding he leave behind, and then just like that, the moment was gone. And the anger, the hurt, and the disappointment reflected in her pained brown eyes again. He couldn't go with her. It was as simple as that. This was his home and the only thing he'd ever known. The only place he would ever feel like he belonged. But it was more than that too—he had a family here and they depended on him just as much as he depended on them. He couldn't desert them…just up and leave because Tara couldn't make her life work here.

_If you can't be here_, he'd told her, _you can't be with me_.

That must've been the nail in the coffin, the gear she needed to shift to in order to put herself in drive. He hadn't entirely intended to push her away but he'd needed to push her to…something. To just make up her mind. She was literally driving him insane with her indecision and he couldn't take that anymore. Someone had to make a decision; someone had to be fucking proactive because all of this inaction was running both of them headfirst into the concrete.

But at the same time, he knew he hadn't forced her hand. She was looking for an out and all he did was give it to her. He wanted to hate her…he wanted to tear his room apart in a blinding rage at what she had done and all she had destroyed but he just didn't have it in him. Instead, his prepay lay in pieces at his feet. At least he couldn't call her now—he was terrified at what he might say if he was actually able to talk to her, of what he might do to somehow make everything the way it used to be when she still loved him.

Now he was just sitting here in the darkness, ruminating on how he'd let everything spin so dangerously out of control. How could she do this shit? How could she really pack up and leave like that? How did she look him in the eye and ever say that she loved him? Even at the last moment, when she was walking out the door forever, she'd turned back with tears streaming down her face and whispered that she'd always love him.

That was the biggest pile of bullshit he'd ever heard.

The problem was that he'd never had control over the situation to begin with. She'd applied for medical school without telling him. She'd accepted a scholarship without telling him. Hell, she'd lied right to his face when she said she was going on a weekend shopping trip with Donna when they were really going to Chicago to look at apartments. She'd been planning this exit for a long time and he was beginning to wonder if him coming along had just been an afterthought in her plans.

He wished with whatever humanity was left in him that he'd been able to send her on her way when she'd first laid this on him at the beginning of the summer. That he'd been able to hate her and say that to her face. But he was in love with her and in his mind, you didn't fucking do that to the person you loved. So he couldn't send her on her way and he couldn't hate her—he'd just clawed and scratched and fought for her until there was nothing left but a bloody, hollowed-out shell of what they used to be. Of what he used to be.

It had all been for nothing. She was always leaving…whether he was coming with or not. He'd just been too stupid to see it.

But everyone else had seemed to see it and he didn't need anyone whispering in his ear how much of a bitch Tara was or about how he just needed to forget her. He knew all that shit already. He knew Tara was selfish—a part of him had always known that; he just never imagined it would all one day come back and bite him in the ass like this. He didn't need the "I told you so" stares or the pitying, almost-embarrassed looks from his brothers. No…it was just easier to sit here in his room, in the darkness, and watch the light fade away into nothing.  
He was sinking further into this black hole and he really couldn't give a shit right now. Gemma had knocked on his door a few more times but she wasn't getting in again. She'd see him when he wanted her to see him.

With that thought, he tossed the empty bottle of Jack to his feet and staggered up to his closet where more bottles of Jack waited for him. It was the only thing that numbed the pain right now and he didn't care how he felt later—all he cared about was how he felt right now and that he just wanted to feel better. How much lower could he possibly sink? There was no way it could ever be any worse than this.

As he stumbled back to his spot on the carpet, a jarring image of Tara assaulted his brain. They'd had sex right here where he sat—many, many times—when Tara had been worried about everyone else in the clubhouse hearing them and he could almost picture the way her eyes practically rolled back into her head as he slid her panties down her smooth, creamy legs and the way she'd sighed and writhed against him as his fingers slipped into her.

Always so god damn soft. Always so god damn ready for him.

How the fuck could she leave him? How could she tear him to pieces like this? Didn't she know that he would've done just about anything for her, anything she asked? And the one thing she asked for, he couldn't give.

And now as he sat in the exact spot that had given him so many hours of ecstasy and torment, he wondered why he had ever bothered in the first place. Settling down with an old lady wasn't ever something he thought he wanted. When he started high school, he'd enjoyed the endless revolving door of crow-eaters and appreciated that they had never left anything in their wake. No attachments. No expectations. No relationships. No fucking commitments.

With Tara, it had never been that way. He'd always known that getting involved with her meant that he would have to do the attachments, expectations, and relationships. That he would have to commit to her or forget her. He hadn't been able to forget her. No…she got under his skin and crawled around like she owned the fucking place. No matter what he did or how hard he tried, her face was always there—those big brown eyes were always beckoning to him like the god damn siren call they were. So he'd slipped into those uncharted waters, followed his siren, and drowned.

He wondered if he'd ever feel normal again. If he would ever feel anything other than the knife in his stomach.

As he slumped against his bed, darkness began to give way to loud, vibrating music and the low murmur of chatter over the noise. The usual Friday night bash at the clubhouse had most likely started over an hour ago—he'd just been too deep in self-pity to register what was happening around him. He took another long pull from the Jack bottle nestled in his hands and each drop that slipped down his throat told him it was time to get up, move around, and forget a little.

Maybe he'd wallowed in despair—away from civilization—for long enough. Besides, the last thing he needed right now was to worry his brothers. If he didn't show tonight, that was exactly what was going to happen. His absence tonight would undoubtedly be noted and he didn't need to add that to the ever-growing list of his unsolvable, hopeless problems. No, this was fixable. This was something he could do to prove that he wasn't a complete loss, that he hadn't allowed himself to be completely engulfed in grief. The club needed him to show up tonight—no one had said it and since, the soft knocking on his door had ceases hours ago, he was willing to bet the club would probably let this one slide in light of recent events. But he needed them to know that he was still the same person he'd always been and that a girl wouldn't be the thing that broke him—even it was all a god-damn, fucking lie.

And as he staggered to his feet, his hands reaching out for the door knob, he wondered if maybe tonight he'd be able to forget what he'd lost, if even for a few moments. That was worth the effort and the stares and the questions—that was what he needed right now…just to forget Tara had ever existed. That was the only way he was ever going to come out of this on the other side.

* * *

The air in the clubhouse billowed around Isabelle in a swarm of must, smoke, and alcohol. It took her eyes more than a few moments to adjust to this new, assaulting atmosphere and her senses still didn't really know what to do with it. Everything seemed to pass by her in a blur, a whirlwind of leather cuts, short skirts, and booze. At five minutes in, she wasn't still wasn't sold on this being a good idea. Becca was a few steps ahead of her—clearly on the look-out for her very own plate of man-meat—and just that little bit of space made Isabelle feel even more self-conscious than she already was. Already pissed off at her thoughts, she shook her head. No…this was supposed to be a fun night. This was supposed to be night for her to let her hair down, to live a little…and she just needed to keep telling herself that.

When Becca flitted off to wrap her arms around Juice, Isabelle anxiously stepped over to the bar area. Needing more than a little liquid courage, she nodded to the guy behind the bar.

"Get the lady whatever she wants, prospect," a slightly gruff but still familiar voice said behind her. Isabelle turned on her heel, a confused expression written on her face, only to come face to face with Opie, who had Donna tucked safely under his arm. Both of them were smiling at her but it wasn't just their presence or their smiles themselves that threw her off-guard. It was the genuine happiness to see her and the bright, warm, welcome in their eyes that dazed her.

"Hey, Isabelle!" Donna's grin just grew wider as she spoke, her tiny pregnant belly ever so slightly protruding out in front of her. "It's so great to see you—it's been, what, four years?"

Isabelle barely had a chance to register her words when Donna reached up and enveloped her in a quick embrace. Although the hug was over just as quickly as it started, it still shocked the hell out of her. But then again, as Donna's exuberant face began to register, she remembered that out of everyone involved with Samcro, Donna had always been the one who seemed the most…normal, for lack of a better word. She was consistently unfazed by the world her soon-to-be husband lived in and if anything, seemed annoyed by it more often than not. She'd always thought that the women that hung around Samcro were the type that liked the danger, the violence, the sex, the rush, and everything else that went with it—Tara included. Donna, however, just seemed to tolerate it because she loved Opie.

"Hi, Donna," Isabelle replied finally with a grin. "It's really good to see you, too."

And it really was. Especially now, here in the clubhouse, where she felt like such an outsider—and she'd already been all but abandoned by Becca for Juice.

"How's it going at TM so far? Those guys treating you alright over there?" Donna asked.

She just shrugged and nodded gratefully to the guy behind the bar when he slid a beer over to her. "Ah…things are going pretty well actually. I'm liking it so far…"

Donna nodded empathetically. "Good…I'm glad to hear it. I'm sure having to be around all those greasy, smelly guys isn't exactly ideal."

She grinned back at Donna and waved a hand in dismissal. "Nah…they've all been pretty nice actually. Can't say I wasn't surprised but…"

She trailed off when a familiar blonde head weaved in and out through the cuts and scantily-clad crow-eaters. Even from across the clubhouse, she could already tell from Jax's stringy, greasy hair to the way he staggered a little unsteadily on his feet that the shit show was about to start. But the second she got a good look at his face, any wayward feelings of annoyance at this situation dissipated. Gone was the cocky, confident, swaggering prince of Charming and in his place was a broken young man who'd clearly sunken in on himself during his three days in self-imposed exile.

"Shit," Opie exhaled loudly.

"Jesus…" Donna muttered under her breath, her eyes sweeping worriedly from Jax to Opie and back to Jax.

"What the hell is he doin' out here?" Opie said, his voice barely audible above the blaring music. "He's just gonna make shit worse for himself, being out here…"

Opie didn't need to finish that sentence for Isabelle to understand what he meant. The expression on Jax's face was one she knew well—it was the weariness of grief. Even from the distance between them, the bags underneath Jax's eyes told her he hadn't slept much in the last three days; the way his eyelids drooped down into his eyelashes meant that he would be having some difficulty standing upright pretty soon. And the half-empty bottle of Jack clinging to his fingertips made her eyes narrow ever so slightly. Yes, this was an image she was very accustomed to.

"Ope," Donna was pleading now. "Maybe you should go try to talk to him before he does something he'll regret later—"

"I can't imagine anything I have to say will change his mind," Opie cut in quietly.

"Just try, Opie," Donna pleaded a little more forcefully this time. Opie turned towards both of them with his lips set in a firm, grim line. Isabelle swallowed nervously as Opie and Donna seemed to be engaging in some sort of telepathic communication—she felt uncomfortable being right in the middle of this, especially now that she was basically intruding on such a private moment.

A few moments later, Opie was stalking over to the other side of the clubhouse with long, purposeful strides. The entire exchange seemed to be happening in slow motion even though it was really only probably about thirty seconds. Opie tried in vain to grab Jax by the shoulders, but Jax just kept shrugging him off and wrapped his free arm around some random crow-eater that had snuck up to his side. It was hard not to watch this in between her fingers—she knew exactly what was going to happen next. It wasn't like it was difficult to figure out.

When Opie tried again to get Jax's attention, it was met with the same response. Finally, with defeated mirrored in his eyes and a frustrated downward sweep of his hands, his head swayed from side to side as he stepped around the crowd and moved back to the bar. The confrontation had gone exactly like Isabelle thought it would but part of her had still held out hope that maybe Jax would listen. Her eyes widened when Jax wasted no time in escorting the bleached blonde bimbo glued to his side down the hallway and presumably to a more private room. It appeared as though Jax had zero interest in listening to anyone tonight.

As his blonde head evaporated into the hallway, it was with a heavy heart that she tore her eyes away and back to Donna's troubled face. Donna tried to make some sort of friendly small talk—and God bless her for it—but Isabelle's thoughts were still swimming somewhere in that dark hallway. Whatever Jax was doing in there was his own business…she just couldn't shake the feeling like someone was standing on top of her shoulders, almost cementing her into the floor below. She was frozen; it felt like she was under water—everything seemed to echo around her—or maybe like she was pushing through a tunnel, searching for air, searching for light. Her heart thudded in her chest and she knew exactly what was happening here.

That ashen, gaunt look on Jax's face was one she seen reflected back at her in the mirror for months after her mom died. Seeing that twin emotion riddled all over him was almost like reliving the devastation, the shock, and the emptiness all over again. But she'd come out on the other side, she told herself calmly, and she was functioning normally again—hell, everyday normalcy had gotten easier with each new day that passed. The same, however, could not be said for her dad and maybe that was why she couldn't move now.

Grief wasn't something you could just "get over" and everything would magically go back to the way it used to be. No amount of self-help books, grief counseling, or therapy could speed the process up any faster but at some point, she realized her mind was just ready to let go, to find that normalcy again and gradually, the emptiness didn't hurt as much. It just lingered like a dull ache or a pang that showed up every once and awhile to nag at you.

That hadn't been the case for her dad. He was still stuck in reverse. He was still swallowed whole. He was still drowning.

When she looked at Jax, she saw the same heaviness that lingered in her father's eyes and that scared the shit out of her. His eyes held the exact same haunted, tormented, and tired expression of a man that barely made it from one day to the next. Was that Jax's fate? Was he headed down the same black highway as her father? She shook herself out from underwater and forced herself back up to the surface. There was already very little she could do to help her father. It wasn't like she was Jax's keeper or could even call herself a friend. Besides, Becca would kill her if she spent the entire party standing at the bar and staring at an empty hallway.

Still, she was overwhelmingly relieved when her phone buzzed in her pocket a little after midnight—which was an abnormal feeling at best. Becca dutifully unwound herself from Juice and together, they picked up her dad from a sports bar a few blocks away from the clubhouse and deposited him safely in his bedroom. Becca hardly said a word to her when she left and Isabelle realized that this was the first time Becca had really seen her dad face-down and drowning.

Part of her wondered if maybe that was why Becca had begged and pleaded with her to come along tonight—so she could see for herself just how deep the downward spiral had sprung. But even if that was the case, she was still grateful Becca was there. Getting her dad out of the garage and up the stairs to his bedroom was not a walk in the park by any means and even if her best friend had slightly questionable motives, she still appreciated the extra pair of hands.

Once she heard soft snores from inside her dad's bedroom, she tiptoed back into her own room and gingerly shut the door behind her. Sleep was going to be next to impossible tonight, that much was for sure. She tossed and turned, eventually throwing the covers completely off of her as she willed herself to shake the image of Jax's empty eyes out of her head. It just wouldn't leave her. She wondered restlessly if it would ever leave her.

Finally, nothing else would work—not reading on her Nook, watching TV, or even listening to her iPod—she slid out of bed and padded nervously to her closet. Reaching up to her tiptoes, her fingers grazed the long-forgotten box on the highest, dustiest shelf. It was telling that she knew exactly where to find it…like it was some sort of divine intervention. At least maybe she'd be able to get some sleep tonight once it was all said and done.

When the sketchbook lay open on her lap, she resisted the nagging inclination to sift through the worn, smudged pages. It wouldn't be any different than slicing through a scab and she just didn't want to put herself through that tonight, especially not at three in the morning. Maybe some other night.

With a sharp inhale and trembling fingers, the pencil began to flit around on the blank page, almost as if it had a life of its own. Her fingers angled and curved until she got the shading just right and then she brushed a feather-light touch down an edge to finish the line. Almost an hour passed but she barely noticed. She'd forgotten how easily she could be swept away in a sketch, just lost in her own little world where everything else around her just faded away.

She didn't need to check the date on the last entry in her sketchbook to remember that she hadn't touched it since leaving her childhood bedroom behind for a college dorm. Law school equaled maturity and she needed to be focused and driven in order to succeed there which left zero time for 'doodling in her notebook', at least that was what her dad drilled into her. So she'd tucked her sketchbook away high in her closet where it was easiest to forget it was there.

But she knew she'd never get to sleep tonight if she didn't exorcise this image out of her mind. She had to do something and it was as if something willed her, almost pulled her to that box in her closet. And now that the image of Jax's eyes stared back at her on the page, she felt like the demon had been put decidedly in its place—the calming sensation flowing through her was something she hadn't felt in too long and now that it was back, she doubted she'd be able to just toss it aside like she had four years ago. There was nothing keeping her from it now and no one to tell her she needed to focus on something more tangible.

And it was that thought that propelled her back into bed and sleeping soundly with the haunting image of Jax's somber eyes tucked safely away and out of her dreams.

* * *

**A/N-Told you Tara wouldn't be sticking around for too long. It was just her time to go. Besides, now the real story can get going and I am so excited to get these next few chapters up. I've had a lot of fun outlining and planning this story and I can't wait to finally get to writing it, let alone share it with you guys. **

**Thanks again to everyone that has reviewed/alerted/favorited this story. The feedback has been amazing and it's so encouraging to know that somewhere, someone's actually reading this (other than me). So thanks for that and keep it coming, please!**


	4. Haunted

On Monday, Isabelle felt like she was almost sleep-walking through her shift. Part of her wondered if the previous Friday night had even happened. Then again, she had the proof in her sketchbook, which was tucked carefully inside her over-sized purse. Mondays typically tended to be slower business days and for that, she would forever be grateful—even though she had suspicions Gemma purposefully scheduled Mondays light so TM's staff could recover from the weekend.

Gemma was already shuffling around the office when she reported for duty and Isabelle was grateful when her boss wordlessly handed over a thick folder of invoices. Distraction, in any form, was absolutely necessary. As she slid into her chair directly across from Gemma, a quick survey through the open blinds told her the garage was still mostly empty. There were only a few mechanics on shift that morning and more wouldn't be coming in for another hour or so-she knew because Gemma, having judged her ready and able to take on more responsibility, had let her help make the schedule for the week.

The rest of the morning passed by without much of a hitch, a few customers here and there, but all in all, it was pretty slow. It wasn't until after 11:00 that a slight nagging, almost a twitch, situated itself into her chest. She was nervous. Anxious. And the cause of said anxiousness materialized from the clubhouse and jogged lightly through the parking lot until he skidded into the garage. Jax was running late. It wasn't so much that she was nervous about seeing him specifically...it was more so that she was anxious about how this first shift after the impact was going to go.

A loud exhale behind her made her jump in her seat and her head curved to the side to see Gemma hovering over her desk, watching every move Jax made with hawk-like eyes, her hands fisted into her hips.

"Well," Gemma muttered under her breath. "Look what the fucking cat dragged in."

The frustration, worry, and a hint of disappointment in Gemma's low voice was not lost on her. It was hard not to feel the same way and she didn't even really know Jax. Seeing Jax's head-first downward spiral into oblivion was not something she had taken lightly; the evidence was practically burning a hole in her purse.

"At least he looks a little better," she offered weakly. "I think he showered."

Gemma exhaled deeply and chuckled softly. "Well, I suppose that is an improvement."

The smile Isabelle was trying to press to her face wouldn't quite stick. There was something about trying to make light of the current situation that didn't sit right with her.

"He's been scaring the shit out of me," Gemma murmured now. "I'm not sure what else to do here...everything I say, he just pretends he never heard it."

Gemma hesitated for a moment, like she was trying to put her thoughts together, her eyes still trained on her son and in that split second, Isabelle realized that Gemma wasn't really talking to her.

"It's not so much the women," Gemma continued softly. "That just comes with the territory anyways. It's the drinking that scares me."

Isabelle nodded and whispered, "I've seen worse."

Gemma eyes flicked over to her and for a moment, Isabelle wondered if Gemma had forgotten she was still in the office. But then, as clear understanding swept over her face, Gemma's eyes clouded in sympathy-which was unfortunate because that wasn't really what she had been going for. A beat later and the moment passed.  
"You know," Gemma offered quietly. "If shit ever gets bad-you know, with your old man-we'll help you anyway we can. You know that, right?"

Isabelle blinked back, her mouth opening slightly as the weight of Gemma's words echoed around her. There was too much to process and it was too early in the morning to do it.

"Now, I know you haven't been workin' here all that long," Gemma went on, striding up closer as she spoke. "But we're a loyal breed, you know? We don't let one of our own fall by the wayside if we can help it. You've been a terrific employee and you're a good girl. If you need somethin', all you have to do is ask."

The promise in those words weren't lost on her and as much as she wanted to feel grateful for that promise, it was difficult to feel anything but the way she always felt whenever anyone regarded with her even a minuscule dose of pity: bitter. That wasn't Gemma's fault though-it was just nature taking its course.  
So instead of saying thank you, all she could do was swallow and nod limply.

"Well," Gemma sighed, her eyes quickly finding Jax's blonde head. "At least he's got something to keep him occupied today. Should be a pretty steady flow."

Isabelle's gaze ventured out into the garage and it didn't take long to find Jax hunched underneath the hood of a beat-up Mercury Sable. Even from where she stood, it was obvious he hadn't slept much the night before-the way his head hung and his shoulders clenched were postmarked signs.

"I think it's a good sign that he's even here today...after last week..." she trailed off, knowing she didn't need to rehash those particular details with Gemma. "I mean, he's here. He's working. That's gotta mean something, right?"

A glimmer of a smile crept across Gemma's face and she nodded. Isabelle almost jumped when she felt a hand rest softly on her shoulder.

"Thanks, Isabelle," Gemma grinned. "Have I told you yet today how glad I am I hired you?"

"Not yet," she shrugged with a chuckle.

"Well...in that case, I think maybe you should get back to the morning paperwork then."

An echo of laughter bounced off the office walls as Isabelle took off for the desk and Gemma swatted her lightly on the shoulder. She was still smiling to herself when she sat down in Gemma's chair and got to work on the mountain of invoices Gemma had so generously left for her. For the most part, this place was really starting to feel like it could be somewhere she belonged, somewhere that made sense-even if it wasn't long-term. And as much as the thought nearly paralyzed her, she knew that Gemma hadn't been exaggerating before. She had been around Gemma enough at this point to know that she never said or did anything without a reason and that she definitely wouldn't offer up Samcro's services if she wouldn't really deliver the goods. Five years ago, she would've balked at the very idea of going to Samcro for anything. But now, if push came to shove, it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that she might have to take Gemma up on her offer.

The next hour seemed to fly by as the steady flow of customers made their way in and out of the office. Because of that, there wasn't much down time for her to even really glance out the office window, let alone really observe what was happening outside it. That was probably for the best though-what Jax was going through was none of her business. Curiosity or no, she didn't really want to immerse herself too deeply in the revolving door of drama that always seemed to follow the members of Samcro wherever they parked their Harleys.

So when she headed out towards the picnic tables for her break, the last thing she expected to see was Jax sitting at her normal break table. Her feet halted in the pavement, feeling stuck with indecision. But in the split second it took her to begin weighing the pros and cons of high-tailing it back into the office, Jax's somber, haunted eyes flicked up from the spot they had previously been searing into the table. She couldn't move if she tried-his cold blue eyes holding her right where she stood. And then the choice the was simple. She supposed she didn't really have any other choice.

Clutching her lunch in one hand and shifting her purse with the other, she trekked across the pavement and stopped a few feet away from the table's bench. It wasn't lost on her that the cigarette, which had been nestled securely in between Jax's fingers a few seconds before, was now flying through the air towards the grass, a trail of ashes sparking behind it. That quick flick of his wrist startled her but if he noticed, his eyes didn't register it. In fact, his eyes didn't register much of anything.

"Is it alright if I sit?" She asked hesitantly, almost cautiously like she was afraid of the answer. Maybe she was.

His chin dipped down towards the table and she decided to take that as a yes. Without much of a response, she swung her legs over the side of the bench and settled in across from him. Her eyes flitted up to him briefly-his eyes were firmed locked on his folded hands at the table-so she silently unpacked her lunch and bit into her sandwich.

They sat there like that for at least a good three minutes-which felt like about three hours. The silence, the inability to come up with anything worthwhile to say, the drooped, hunched over figure sitting across from her-it was all a little too much to handle. She needed to come up with something to talk about and quick. The awkwardness of just sitting here in complete silence was weighing her down with each second that ticked by. Something...anything...please, God, she couldn't take this anymore...

"So, it's September and I don't even feel like I should be in school right now."

She almost wanted to clamp her hand around her mouth. Of all the things she could've said-what the hell made her say that? The word vomit had just spewed out of her with little regard for consequence. She glanced back over to Jax with a wince and squeezed her eyes shut again. His attention had now shifted away from his hands and he was watching her with clear, almost scary precision. A moment later, his eyes slid back down to his hands. It was like he had shut down again right in front of her. A few beats later and still-nothing.

"I thought I might feel differently when this time of year came around-you know, when everyone is going back to school and settling in for classes to start?" She paused to gauge his reaction and for a second, wondered if maybe bringing up the subject of school was too close to home. But he didn't respond and he didn't look away from his hands again.

So she did the only thing she could do in a shot to shit situation like this: she just kept talking.

"Well, anyways," she went on with a shaky laugh. "All my friends from school told me I would feel...I don't know, maybe sad or disappointed in myself when September came and I wasn't in Stanford. I kinda believed them...you know, I thought maybe I would start to feel antzy or anxious or maybe I'd just be bored and need something to do. But now that it's here...I don't feel any of that. I just feel-I don't know what the right word is-relieved, maybe?"

Her eyes flicked back to him and when she found his eyes were still focused downward, she decided she might as well just keeping talking. He probably wasn't even really listening anyway.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I didn't go back in the first place-I mean, that's what everyone's wondering...it's just that no one will ask. Well, besides my dad. I guess, if you're wondering," she gestured out to him with her hands even though she was sure he hadn't noticed. "The simple answer is that I don't think I've ever wanted to be a lawyer."

A weight-one that she hadn't had the courage to acknowledge-magically lifted from her shoulders with those words. It just felt so good to finally be able to say it out loud. She had never wanted to be a lawyer. Ever. And it was that renewed sense of strength and self that propelled her to keep talking. At this point, she was beyond caring if Jax was even remotely paying attention.

"It was just something that has always been shoved down my throat, you know? Ever since I was a little girl, that was just always the expectation. It was like the path to Stanford was laid out for me the second I was born-there was never an alternative for me. And then..."

This was the part that was going to be the most difficult to get out. This was the part that she had never told anyone before and she had no idea why she was saying it now. To him of all people.

"And then," she took in shaky inhale one more time for courage. "My mom got sick. That just...changed everything. I guess that's putting it lightly. It didn't just change everything-it upended my entire life. Nothing just...nothing made sense to me anymore. Nothing about being at school felt right anymore-I mean, how could I sit there and laugh and hang out with my friends when my mom was lying in a hospital bed with six months to live? Everything that was important to me before-grades, studying, partying-it was like all that just evaporated."

She needed to take a moment there to re-group. This was starting to get heavy and when she hesitantly shifted her gaze over to Jax, her brain seemed to freeze completely when she realized he was watching her. It almost seemed like he was listening to her. That brief distraction almost toppled whatever fire had been lit under her. But then again...she'd already started. Why stop now? What difference did it make? Still, she had to shift her eyes to anywhere but directly in front of her before she continued.

"It just didn't feel right anymore," she whispered, her eyes settling on a crack in the pavement to her left. "I couldn't keep doing what I was doing and feel good about it. And then she was gone...she really put up one hell of a fight. Did you know the doctors told us she would only make it six months, even that was generous, but she toughed it out for eight?"

She swallowed as she brought her eyes back up to the table. Jax shook his head slightly and the slightest smile touched his lips. He was listening. For some reason, knowing someone-anyone-was not just hearing her words but actually listening to them made her feel like crying.

"Yeah..." she continued softly. "When she was gone, I guess I just sort of hit rock bottom. I didn't see a reason for going back to school, you know?"

She looked to him now as she asked the question and he nodded solemnly, his eyes still fixed carefully on her.

"If it didn't feel right before my mom...before she died," her breath caught on that last word, "it definitely didn't feel right after. I just don't see the point in wasting your life doing something you have zero interest in just to make other people happy. Life is way too short for any of that. I mean, don't get me wrong-I broke my dad's heart when I told him I wasn't going back this semester. I spent the whole summer feeling like shit because of it."

Jax's voice floated softly across the table but the sound of it still shocked her. "But you still think you did the right thing though."

She nodded, feeling a smile tugging at her lips. He got it. He understood what she had been thinking. What she was still thinking.

"I know I did."

His eyes softened a little at her words and his head dipped down in a nod. He shifted his weight around on the bench and he just seemed...more relaxed since she started talking. Maybe, she realized, her rambling done some good for both of them.

"So what are you going to do now? I mean, let's face it, you're not gonna work at T-M forever," he gestured toward the garage as he spoke.

"I have no idea," she shrugged. "I'm not in a rush though. I guess I figured-I just spent the last eight years doing everything my family wanted me to do; I don't have to have it all figured out right now."

"Yeah," he offered quietly. "I guess you earned that right."

She smiled weakly and shifted her gaze back down to that crack in the pavement. After a few beats-and a few moments of silence-a cold shiver crawled up the base of her neck. She shouldn't have shared so much; at least, not something so personal to someone she could barely call an acquaintance. Especially an acquaintance who had just had his entire life turned upside down.

"Hey," she started slowly. "I'm sorry about spilling all this on you-that was just an epic overflow of word vomit. I'm sure you didn't really want to hear-"

His eyes darted back to her and he abruptly cut in with a frown: "You don't have anything to be sorry about, Isabelle."

"Okay...um, well, thanks for listening, anyways. It just...it felt good to say it. I don't know why I did but...well, it just felt good to finally say that out loud."

He nodded, a touch of smile curving into his lips. For a split second, she felt a surge of something in her stomach. Somewhere, deep down, she knew exactly what that was but her subconscious also knew not to go there.

"Don't worry about it," he replied hoarsely.

"Okay, well," she started rising from the bench as she spoke. "I should probably head back to the office...your mom's got a mountain of paperwork waiting for me."

"Have fun with that," Jax chuckled lightly, rising to stand. He stretched his hands over his head with a yawn before shoving his hands into his front pockets.

"Well," she called over her shoulder. "Thanks for...well, thanks."

The ghost of a smile traced his lips and then she turned back towards the office. It felt like it took extra effort to put one foot in front of the other and just walk. She felt relieved yet tired all at the same time. She felt purged. And even though her feet were heavier than normal, her whole body felt lighter than it had in over eight months.

* * *

For some reason, Jax's dorm room felt like it had gotten smaller. Well, he probably knew the reason. It was just that today was the first day he actually acknowledged how different everything felt. She had been gone for nearly two weeks. Two weeks since his life had spun off its axis. Two weeks since everything just seemed to go black. He still felt like he was hovering above his body, watching himself go from point A to point B, just going through the motions. Almost like he was on autopilot, programmed to eat, sleep, drink, work, and repeat.

His tired eyes fell on a random, albeit slightly soiled, pair of panties. A long, weary sigh pushed itself from his chest. That shit wasn't really helping things either. All it-or more accurately, they-were doing was numbing him for a few moments. That was really it. Because the second he was inside any of the random crow-eaters that had fallen into his bed over the last two weeks, he lost all control of his senses and all he could see and feel and taste was her. Hell, he couldn't even think her name anymore.

The one positive thing this passage of time had done for him was grant him the gift of clarity. Once the fog lifted and as he slowly toed the line between himself and the land of the living, the situation had settled itself into something he could make more sense of. She had betrayed his trust and then she'd abandoned him. There really wasn't any other way to describe or sugar-coat it. He wanted to fucking hate her. He wanted to tear his room apart and shred every last reminder of her, purging it from his consciousness. But it wasn't that simple. Not when he still saw her everywhere and in everything.

And that sorry realization made it essentially impossible for him to ever allow himself to acknowledge the degree of pain her betrayal had caused him. So, as much as he wanted to, returning to the land of the living just wasn't in the cards for him right now. Part of him wondered if it would ever be.

A sideways glance at the clock told him his shift was about to start and he gingerly picked up the evidence of his latest midnight indiscretion, discarding it underneath a pile of trash on his floor, then hastily finished buttoning up his garage T-shirt as he thrust himself out into the hallway. His shirt was still half-unbuttoned when he heard a familiar chuckle behind him.

"Running late again, brother?"

"Nah, Ope," Jax just shrugged. "I'm early."

Opie snatched the beanie off his head and tugged a hand through his tangled, overly-long hair with poorly-hidden exasperation. Even if he hadn't known Opie his entire life, he wouldn't have needed longer than a heartbeat to know something was up.

"Everything alright, Ope?"

It took his best friend a moment before he spoke again. "Everything's fine, Jax. Hey, listen, how do you feel about a change of scenery tonight? You know, get out of the clubhouse for a little while?"

Jax frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "You sure everything's alright?"

Opie's eyes lifted briefly to the ceiling before settling back down on him. "Yeah, brother. I just thought...I don't know...maybe you'd want to leave the damn compound for awhile, you know? Breathe a little bit."

Well, he supposed he couldn't blame Opie for feeling that way. After all, Ope had dutifully watched over his sorry ass for the last two weeks as he buried himself in Jack and pussy. A change of scenery was only fair.

"Besides," Opie went on quietly. "Donna's kinda been bugging me about goin' somewhere that isn't so smoky. You know, with the kid and all. Shit, I guess it's a miracle I can even get her to come along to the clubhouse anymore. I think she's just comin' because she's worried about-"

And there it was. That's fine, Jax thought. Just add more guilt onto his already full plate.

"Sorry, Jax," Opie stared back at him solemnly. "I didn't mean it like that."

A forced smile, only for the sake of his best friend, pushed itself across his face and he slapped him on the shoulder.

"Don't worry about it, Opie. I didn't realize any of that shit was bothering her...I kinda had some, uh, arrangements for tonight though."

"Oh sure, arrangements," Opie made air-quotes with a laugh. "Whatever you wanna call it."

He already had a long-standing-long-standing meaning two days-agreement with Wendy that they would go for 'round two', as she'd put it, and that she was planning on bringing a friend. He couldn't even completely remember round one but at the very least, he remembered her name. It was just easy; he was lazy and now he would have to put zero effort into warming his bed tonight. That was good enough for him.

"You think maybe we could pencil this little change of scenery in for another night?" Jax asked, already figuring he knew the answer.

"Saturday?" Opie offered hopefully.

"Saturday it is."

Opie clapped him on the shoulder and pushed him towards the end of the hallway. "Sounds good...now get your ugly ass to work before your ma shoves her heel up your ass."

Jax was still chuckling to himself when he stepped into the office to clock in. His mother, of course, was anxiously awaiting his arrival, toe-tapping and all. What a shocker. Instead of acknowledging her helicopter-esque tendencies, he opted to sidestep her in order to order to get closer to the desk. A beat later, he realized they weren't alone in the office. Isabelle was seated quietly across from the desk, pen in hand, watching this almost-scene with wide, sympathetic eyes.

"Nice to see you too, Jackson," his mother bite out. "What's the excuse this time?"

To be fair, he'd been barely getting to work on time since he had started working bitch-and clean-up at T-M when he was twelve. Even then, Gemma had only been moderately on his case about the importance of character-building. How being on time for a job reflected work ethic and some more bullshit like that. He'd never completely bought into it and honestly, sometimes he showed up for his shift right on the dot just to get under her skin. But the last two weeks had been slightly different circumstances and his mother was well-aware of those circumstances. So, it was only fair that she fucking laid off for awhile.

"Sorry," he held his hands up in the air in defense, his eyes darted quickly to Isabelle as he spoke. "I was talkin' to Ope about some shit. Lost track of time. I'm sorry, Ma...it won't happen again, alright?"

Gemma just eyed him warily. "You really think I'm stupid enough to believe that?"

"Alright, fine," he conceded with a shrug. "It won't happen again for at least a full week, okay?"

Gemma rolled her eyes, a little bit too dramatically for his taste, and shook her head. "Well, at least you're knee-deep in something else instead of pussy."

"Thanks, Gemma," he shot back a little too quickly. "Love you too."

Some shuffling to his left caught his attention and his eyes widened when he realized Isabelle was still in the office, now quickly scrambling to her feet and towards the nearest exit.

"I think, uh, maybe I'll just take my break now..." Isabelle exhaled in a rush, barely grabbing hold of her purse as she backpedaled until her ass hit the door behind her.

When he turned his attention back to Gemma, her arms were crossed over her chest and she was shaking her head at him with barely masked frustration. Up until now, he'd done a decent job by-passing her impatience and frustration. His mother wanted him to just 'get over it already' and move on with his life. Two weeks was more than enough time to mourn, she'd told him yesterday. And while he didn't exactly appreciate her use of the term 'mourn', he also didn't agree with her logic. Two weeks and he was just finally starting to feel somewhat human again. Of course, he was using the term, 'somewhat', pretty loosely. Who the hell was she to tell him how to feel and when to feel? He was twenty-fucking-one-years-old and he figured that should at least give him the right to take as long as he wanted to wallow in self-pity.

"Jax," Gemma sighed, raking a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry if I..."

"Jumped the gun?" He finished for her, crossing his arms over his chest to mirror her current stance.

"Sure," she waved a hand. "Look, I'll try not to..."

"Hover?" He rose an eyebrow as he spoke.

"Sure," Gemma just rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Jax. Look, what I've been trying to say is that I'm just worried about you, alright? It puts me a little on edge and then I fly off the handle."

"I know, Ma," he offered quietly, loosening up a little. "I'm trying...I really am...I know what you all want me to do and I'm trying..."

His mother rose an eyebrow. "Weed, pussy, and Jack helpin' you out with that?"

He just shrugged. "A little. So what?"

Gemma put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently. "I just wanna see you happy again...that's all. I just wanna see things go back to normal for you. I don't think that's unreasonable."

"No," he shrugged again, feeling like he was always going to be fighting an uphill battle with her. "It's not. But you gotta give me some space, alright? I'm fine, okay?"

The room was silent for a moment as Gemma studied him carefully, like she was trying to gauge just how much bullshit he'd just thrown at her. Well, it was all bullshit. He'd just said what she needed to hear. That didn't make him a criminal even though he was sure she wouldn't hesitate to use that as an excuse to smother him a little more. Sure, she was worried. He got that. He wanted to move on and forget just as much as anybody but that didn't make it any less complicated. This crash-course in heartbreak really drove that point home. Forgetting, moving on, and living was a hell of a lot easier said than done.

A moment later and Gemma was wrapping him up in a warm embrace, hugging him tightly to her.

"I just can't stand seeing you like this...looking like you haven't showered in a damn week," she whispered into his ear. "I love you, Jax, and all I want is to see you come out of the other side of this shit."

"I will, Ma, I will."

He didn't know who he was trying to convince more.

"I know, baby," Gemma smiled, placing a hand on his cheek. "Why don't you head outside for a few minutes...you know, have a cig or something, clear your head. The garage is pretty slow right now anyways and I think the prospect can handle it without you a little longer."

He nodded silently and forced a weak lop-sided smile on his face. Even if he didn't believe all the bullshit he'd just been sprouted, it was imperative his mother did. She pushed him gently towards the door and he had to admit, taking a breather was a welcome distraction. He couldn't say he was all that surprised by the sudden ambush the second he stepped foot in the office. It was in her nature to meddle. But he liked to believe that he was doing at least a decent job of hiding all the shit rattling his brain right now. Guess he needed to work on that.

The warm California sun enveloped his face and he felt like he could finally take a breath. If his dorm seemed smaller than the office had seemed like a fucking closet. Without hesitation, he padded out towards his usual picnic table only to find it already occupied. A light smile curved his lips as he took in Isabelle, who was hunched over the table, facing him, and what was she...was she writing in a notebook or something? His curiosity got the better of him and his feet carried him closer until he could see that she wasn't writing, but drawing in the notebook. That was new.

As he shuffled over the bench, Isabelle looked up sharply, quickly snapping the notebook shut and shoving it into her purse.

"How's it goin', Isabelle?" He called over to her. "Alright if I sit?"

That seemed to be their routine as of late. One of them would get there first and then the other would ask if it was okay to sit down. At this point, they both had to know it was perfectly acceptable to be sharing a table. He supposed it was just courtesy that kept the formality going.

She opened her arms out wide and leaned back into the empty space behind her. "Free country, Jax."

He chuckled softly and plopped himself down across from her, jutting his head out towards her purse. "What were you doin' over there? Anything you wanna show me?"

When her expression shifted from mere confusion to wide with awareness and then flushed with embarrassment, it was easy to allow a sly grin slip across his own features. He didn't take the extra energy to ruminate over how good it felt to just...feel something again. The emotion didn't quite have a name but it was there and he supposed that was all that mattered.

"Um, no." Was her curt, almost playful reply.

He held his hands abruptly in defense, the smile still lingering on his lips. "Don't worry. I won't try to grab that notebook in your purse you were drawin' in or anything. No...I would never try something like that."

"Shut up, you jerk."

Jax figured these recent picnic table-side chats had given him enough background knowledge to at least detect the barely masked sarcasm in her voice and he took that as his sign to push a little further. He wasn't intentionally trying to make her uncomfortable; curiosity was just starting to get the better of him. The way she'd hastily gotten her notebook out of sight only make him want to see what was inside of it even more. Seeing her doing something in a notebook, let alone drawing, was an interesting little kernel of intel and this might be the only opportunity he would ever get.

"So...maybe you could show me just one?"

Her blue eyes sparked and seemed to dart right through him. A moment later, she shrugged as if it didn't matter. "Why do you want to see it so bad?"

"I don't know," he replied. At this point, he was really itching for a cigarette but he never been one to make the same mistake twice. "Just curious is all. I didn't mean to pry or anything."

She shifted anxiously in her seat, like she was waging some sort of mental battle with herself and again, he found himself grinning as a knee-jerk reaction. The truth was, ever since she'd spilled out all the dirty details surrounding her current residence in Charming-word vomit, she'd called it but that wasn't the right description-he'd looked at her a little differently. She'd become about ten times more interesting and a thousand times more complicated all at the same time. It was sort of fascinating.

Half the time, he sat across from her at their picnic table just wondering what she was going to say next. And when she'd sat right where she was now, brimming with tears, and still finding the strength to say the words that must've felt like a sucker punch to the gut, he'd felt a spike of something foreign. That had been the start.

On the other hand, he couldn't help but wonder why she'd chosen him of all people. There was no doubt in his mind that that story had never left her lips in full for anyone else before and he just couldn't wrap his head around it. He couldn't imagine a situation, in light of recent events, that would ever put him in a position to be a friend to anyone, let alone a good one. But she'd still chosen him. Even if the only reason was because he was there and she was ready to talk about it, he knew it had brought him another millimeter closer to the land of the living.

Some soft ruffling in front of him yanked him out of his revelry and his eyes widened when he realized Isabelle was sliding the notebook over to him.

Before he could say anything-or protest her choice-she quickly shook her head, like she could read his mind.

"Just...just don't look at pages in the front, okay? That's...um, that's private," she flipped open the notebook and pointed down at a page. "Start here, okay?"

He nodded silently, having zero capacity for what the protocol was in a situation like this. No one had ever shared anything like this with him before and now, with her, it was the second time this was happening. He swallowed tightly and slid the notebook closer to him, peering down at the page. A delicate, almost intimate, sketch of her Trans Am. At first, the subject itself caught him off guard but then, as his eyes studied each stroke of her pencil, the curves and lines of shading-it was like he was seeing the same car she drove to work in everyday for the first time. It was somehow more beautiful, more captivating on paper than it was in person and that was all her.

"Wow," he exhaled, turning the notebook slightly to see it from a different angle. "This is...I don't even know how to describe it, Isabelle..."

"Thanks," she murmured softly with a hint of anxiousness.

"You know, I've been meaning to ask you," his eyes didn't leave the page as he spoke. "Where did you get this beauty anyways?"

"It was my mom's."

On reflex, his eyes jumped back up to her and she laughed nervously.

"Well, technically, it was my grandpa's, who gave it to my mom, who left it to me."

That made sense. And that definitely explained her dedication in committing the image to paper. Nothing he could come up with to say seemed good enough; there really wasn't a response that matched everything she'd just shared with him. So instead, he just nodded and hoped that was enough.

A soft smile played across Isabelle's lips and she gestured back to the notebook. "You can turn the page-it's alright."

He took the direction and flipped the page. And then another and another. Each new page pushed him deeper into amazement. There was a couple embracing in T-M's parking lot, a pair of wrinkled hands, a figure standing off into the shadows, a mother walking hand-in-hand with her child, a Christmas tree, a wave-filled beach, the inside of Gemma's immaculate office, and a pair of intertwined hands. It was life. Snapshots of living. He wished he could step inside one of those sketches so he could remember what that felt like.

"Wow...Isabelle," he murmured, finally drawing his eyes back to her. "These are just...you're a fuckin' amazing artist, you know that, right?"

"Oh no," she laughed lightly. "I wouldn't exactly say that."

"I would."

"Okay, well," she laughed again. "If you say so."

He nodded firmly before gingerly closing the notebook and sliding it back across the table. A beat later, she swept it off the top and promptly shoved it back into her purse. They sat there in complete silence for a few moments, her playing nervously with her cell phone and taking a long gulp of Mountain Dew and him staring a hole into the table. He knew he was supposed to say something now...anything. The problem was that there just wasn't anything he could really say that would accurately explain what he was feeling. The fact that he was feeling at all was enough to completely destroy his carefully constructed mask of indifference. But that still didn't help him.

So he just blurted out the first stupid, inane thing that popped into his head.

"So you comin' to the clubhouse tonight?"

Isabelle hid her surprise pretty well, her eyebrows just jumping up into her forehead. "What?"

"Well, you've been comin' the last few times with Becca, right?" He recovered quickly, wanting to smack himself in the face even as he spoke. "I just figured that you'd be comin' tonight too, right?"

He wasn't even sure why this was worth bringing up in the first place. In fact, he could only vaguely remember seeing her at the clubhouse. Those nights, when he allowed himself to get completely, numbingly shit-faced, were all but hazy.

"I don't know," she replied quickly, her brow still furrowed into a confused frown. "I'm not really sure what I'm doing tonight."

"Oh, okay," he nodded and then quickly shook his head.

Even after she waved goodbye and headed back into the office, he was still shaking his head. There was little explanation for whatever it was that had just happened here. Of all the things he could've said to her after she once again shared something incredibly personal-why had he asked her if she was going to go to another debauchery-filled night at the clubhouse? That was not an appropriate response to the situation. And he just realized he'd heard his mother's voice in his head. This was not good.

Well, there was one good thing about sitting alone at the picnic table. At least now he could have a cigarette.

* * *

**A/N-**I hope you liked it...I think it moved some things along but not too quickly. Like I said before, they aren't just going to jump into bed together. They're both a little too damaged right now to realize what's sitting right in front of them. The next chapter should be up soon.

Let me know what you thought...your feedback has been really amazing! Keep it coming!


	5. The New Normal

Despite her better judgment, Isabelle found herself dutifully following Becca inside the smoky, alcohol-infused clubhouse. She hadn't entirely been in the mood for yet another round of debauchery observation but it was getting more difficult to come up with arguments. It was, however, getting a little bit easier to dress for the environment. A few trips to the clubhouse and her inner party-girl was slowly crawling her way out. High heels were a little bit easier to throw on and she didn't mind showing a little bit more cleavage than she would just about anywhere else. The jury was still out on whether or not that was a good thing.

In general, though, the inside of the clubhouse was becoming easier to manage. Her senses were no longer completely assaulted upon initial entry and she didn't exactly feel the need to cover her ears anymore at the vociferous attack of crashing heavy-metal music. Not that she was running out to download an entire library of Metallica on her iPod...but it was becoming tolerable, to say the least.

As they rounded the corner to sidle up to the bar, they came face to face with a club member planted face first under the skirt of some random girl. While Isabelle wasn't quite sure on his name-Kozik, maybe...it was difficult to keep track sometimes with all the comings and goings around here-but that didn't stop her stomach from churning at the sight. That really wasn't something she needed to see. Especially not on a regular basis. Still...it was difficult not to stare. The girl looked like she was having the time of her life; nevermind that the entire clubhouse was around to witness it.

Becca nudged her in the side with a sly grin. "Party's started without us, huh? Just pretend like they're not there...let's get a drink."

Once she had a drink in hand and a little bit of necessary liquid courage, her body started to feel less rigid and more relaxed. Hell, she was even bobbing her head a little to the music. Somewhere along the way, Becca cozied herself up to Juice and Isabelle suddenly felt like the third wheel...again. That was her cue to leave them alone-they were bound to end up in a dark hallway sometime tonight and Becca would've long forgotten about her by then. Not that she could really blame her best friend though; she had to admit-Juice was hot and being part of an MC gave him a dangerous edge she knew Becca had always secretly craved. A few more nights like this and she might find herself in a dark hallway somewhere too.

Who was she kidding? She didn't have the balls-figuratively, of course-to be that brazen, that uninhibited. And the fact that she worked with these people was always bubbling up to the surfaces of her mind. That was a pretty big argument against doing anything remotely humiliating, let alone potentially self-destructive, at her workplace.

So when Becca predictably disappeared, casting her a quick apologetic glance as Juice pulled her away, Isabelle was overwhelmingly grateful when she found Donna in the crowd. Immediately drawn into a tight embrace, it felt like maybe she'd finally found an ally in the midst of all this.

"Hey Isabelle!" Donna had to practically shout to be heard over the ear-splitting beat of the song screaming from the sound system. "I'm so happy you're here...for some reason, it seems particularly annoying in this place tonight."

"Must be the music," Isabelle replied just as loudly, pointing up in the air as she spoke. Donna laughed-it was probably a loud one but it was still difficult to hear.

"You're right...that's gotta be it," she laughed before taking a quick sip from her water bottle. "It's really god damn stuffy in here."

"Where's Opie?" Isabelle asked. She figured he was around here somewhere; of all the times she'd been to the clubhouse, Opie and Donna were never too far apart from each other. There was something about the way Opie looked at Donna, like she was the axis his entire world revolved around, that made her a little jealous and a little wistful at the same time. She'd never had that kind of companionship before. On occasion, Dan had looked at her like his world would crumble without her but there was nothing either of them could do to force her to feel the same for him. What Donna and Opie had was rare. It was the kind of unconditional, all-encompassing love that inspired poets like Keats and her personal favorite, ee cummings. It wasn't something you came across everyday, not even in passing.

Donna shrugged and glanced around a few times before her eyes lit up, signaling she had found what she was looking for. "He's just playing some pool over there."

"You don't mind...just kinda hanging out here by yourself?"

When Donna just shrugged again, she figured she hadn't hit on a sore subject.

"Nah, it's fine. I honestly don't mind it all that much anymore...I guess I'm just sort of used to it by now. If Ope and I were just starting out, then maybe it would be a different story," she gestured towards the bar, where two croweaters were currently dancing on top of it. "I guess nothing really shocks me anymore. Once you've been here a few times, it feels like you've seen it all, you know?"

"Yeah," Isabelle nodded. "I guess I can see how you'd feel that way."

"It just comes with the territory," Donna continued, waving her hand in the air dismissively. "It does help to have someone to hang out with...especially when you're new to all this."

Isabelle opened her mouth to ask who Donna had had with her when she was new to the clubhouse but quickly shut it. The answer was obvious. Tara. Of course it was Tara. But she was well aware her name was one that wasn't spoken aloud around here.

As if on cue, a familiar blonde head weaved its way in and out of the crowd and suddenly, Isabelle felt like an idiot for being there. He'd asked her, somewhat out of the blue, that same day if she was going to be at the clubhouse and she'd fumbled for an answer. Giving him such a tentative 'I don't know' had felt awkward and she didn't want him to think that she'd shown up because she thought he was interested in her or something completely ridiculous like that. But, on second thought, she wondered if he was really thinking much about anything right now, let alone even realized she was standing on the other side of the clubhouse. His attention was currently preoccupied by the redhead and brunette flanking both sides of him.

Donna's heavy sigh next to her jerked her from that thought. When she turned back to face her, Donna's entire demeanor had completely changed. Gone was the relaxed, perpetually good-natured, and suspiciously cheerful pregnant woman and in her place was a troubled, almost disturbed, sad one instead. She figured that reaction was just about right. Donna and Jax had known each other for years; she was getting married to his best friend and Isabelle had heard, through Gemma, that Opie and Donna had already asked Jax to be the godfather of their unborn child. Donna had every right and every cause to be more than concerned for the guy currently hooking an arm over not one but two different women. At least the stringy, greasy hair was long gone. But his cheeks were a little more sunken in and his clothes hung more loosely than before on his body. He wasn't the same person she remembered from high school. That person had clearly left the building the same time Tara did.

"Jesus Christ," Donna muttered under her breath. "Please don't tell me he's going to take both of them back to his dorm..."

There wasn't much she could say or do other than to whole-heartedly agree.

"I just still can't fucking believe she did that," Donna continued, fire seeping into her eyes as she spoke. "I just never thought that she would...that she would actually leave him, especially not like that."

Isabelle opened her mouth and the words just came tumbling out: "Do you really think she would've changed her mind though?"

She wanted to clamp her hand over her mouth. This was Tara's best friend she was talking to-and the last thing she wanted to do was lose the only ally she really had in this place. And even though plenty of assorted curses were reserved for Tara here at the clubhouse, that still didn't mean it was acceptable to say it out loud. Especially not when the two people her abandonment had affected the most were standing within earshot.

But yet, despite her outburst, no flashes of anger, disappointment, or frustration crossed Donna's face. Instead, there was nothing on her face but sadness.

"I ask myself that everyday, you know?" Donna finally answered, even though it came out barely above a whisper. After a beat, she kept on going. "I asked her to be maid of honor and everything...sometimes I wish I could just take that back. Then he wouldn't have to see her again in a few months."

Shit...she wasn't aware of that.

"If you don't mind me asking...do you ever talk to her? I mean, is she at least still talking to you if not...?" She wasn't sure if she was overstepping here but she still needed to ask.

Donna just shrugged and sighed deeply. "I got a few phone calls, a couple of texts, things like that right after she left. Now...not so much. I guess she's off putting her new life together."

"I'm sorry."

She didn't know what else to say because even though Donna hadn't said it, the pain of losing her best friend was evident in her swimming brown eyes. Tara hadn't just left one person devastated in her wake. Right about now, it seemed like a ten-car pile-up of destruction. The selfishness of Tara to just take off like that when her best friend needed her the most-first baby, getting married...those were situations she couldn't imagine going through without Becca-it was just too much to process all in one sitting.

"Don't worry about it," Donna was saying now. "What's done is done. Other than getting her skinny ass back here for my wedding, she's never coming back."

A sudden flash of movement from across the clubhouse's main floor caught both their attention. Jax and his newly-formed harem were making their way in and out of the crowd, clearly on the path towards his dorm room. The problem was, in their effort to get to Jax's dorm as quickly as possible, their path had them on a shortcut that was taking them directly past Isabelle and Donna. Jax sauntered lazily towards them, both arms strung around the redhead and brunette's shoulders to keep himself upright. As they ambled closer, the glassy, dazed look in Jax's eyes signalled that he was beyond drunk.

Donna was already shaking her head in disgust when Jax and his future bedmates were only a few feet in away. That movement must have caught Jax's attention because his steps skidded to a halt, almost bringing the two equally drunk ladies down.

"Oh hey, Don," Jax slurred, a lazy, barely cognizant smile slipping across his features. "How's it goin'?"

Donna blew out an exasperated breath and clenched her jaw. "Oh hi, Jax. Looks like your night is off to a great start."

Jax clearly missed the sarcasm in her voice-the disoriented, almost sleepy expression on his face said as much-and he just nodded with a shit-eating grin. It seemed he was coherent enough to at least know he was about to get laid. Nice.

He looked like he was about to say something when his gaze landed on Isabelle long enough to finally realize she was standing there too. "Hey Iz...shit, I mean, Isabelle...didn't know you were comin' tonight."

She just shrugged, not wanting him to stand there with his arms wrapped around two scantily-clad women any longer than necessary. "I guess I changed my mind."

Teetering unsteadily on his feet, he managed to nod. "Cool...okay."

He stood there for a moment longer, just enough to make her feel uncomfortable, until the redhead tugged impatiently on the arm draped around her shoulder and motioned with her head in the direction of his dorm room.

"See ya, Don...later, Isabelle," he called out over his shoulder as the girls led him away and down that dark hallway.

After a few moments of staring at the empty space left behind by Jax, Donna shook her head again with pure frustration. There really wasn't anything left to be said and truth be told, Jax's little appearance had really sucked any fun out of the night she might've had. She heard Donna shift anxiously next to her and turned to see her tugging a hand through her hair in exasperation.

"Well," Donna exhaled. "I'm not sure my night could get any worse than that. Might as well quit while I'm ahead. I'm think I'm gonna go find Ope and see if he can take me home."

"Sure," Isabelle nodded, wishing there was a way she could follow Donna's lead. But, unfortunately for her, she'd miscalculated how this night was going to go and had let Becca drive them there. She figured Donna and Opie would probably give her a ride if she asked but she didn't want to impose or come off looking like some needy, helpless girl they used to know in high school.

"Hey, you know, I was thinking," Donna leaned in closer to her so she could hear her. "We should go out for lunch sometime, do some shopping, something like that. What do you think?"

Isabelle didn't need any time to consider her answer. "Yeah, of course. Sometime next week, maybe?"

"Sure," Donna nodded excitedly. "I can pick you up during your lunch break. I usually come during Ope's break but he'll get over it."

After they exchanged numbers, Donna leaned forward and whispered in her ear: "Don't stay too long, alright? If you need a ride or something, just text me and we can bring you home."

Then Donna was gone. And she was on her own in the clubhouse.

A few spilled drinks later, Isabelle was ready to leave. The stickiness of the spilt drinks seemed to saturate her clothes and even in a crowded room full of people, she was suddenly freezing. What she really needed right now was a pair of pajamas and a blanket but that wasn't happening anytime soon. It wouldn't do her any good to go looking for Becca either; she knew she'd get a text message when Becca and Juice were, um, finished. They'd been gone about an hour already so it was really anyone's guess on when she'd be getting that text.

Now she was starting to just get pissed. Everyone seemed to be having a good time but her. Becca was in a room somewhere doing God knows what with Juice. Jax was in a room somewhere doing God knows what with those two skanks. People were drinking, laughing, dancing, playing pool, and just having a good time. So why the hell was she standing here, all by herself, and feeling like shit?

Better yet, how many times had she seen this same old song and dance from Jax? Get falling down wasted, bang some random croweater, pass out, and repeat. It had only been two weeks since Tara left and there was nothing but a revolving door of croweater after croweater. It was always some random girl...one after the next. He wasn't helping himself by doing that. He was only sinking deeper into oblivion with each drunken night. Each empty, random hookup gave way to another inch further into the sandpit he was already waist-deep in. She saw enough of that shit with her father. She didn't need to see that shit here too. Not when it was a Friday night and she was supposed to be letting loose. Not when she was supposed to be preoccupied with figuring her own shit out.

The worse part was that it seemed like Jax was with a different girl every night. She didn't know why that bothered her so much. Maybe it was because he was slowly killing himself. Maybe it was just because the endless cycle of empty sex was so far removed from anything she would ever do it was increasingly irritating. Regardless, she knew she was sick of watching this sad show play out. Suddenly, the air in the clubhouse felt thick and stuffy. It was god damn stifling. She just couldn't stand to be in this room another minute. Not when she knew exactly what was happening just a few rooms away.

Her tired feet carried her through the crowd and pushed her outside the clubhouse doors. The cool breeze hit her face and she finally felt like she could breathe. Now that she had some space, the suffocation she'd been struggling to keep at bay no longer felt like such a menace. It was more controlled now-it probably had more to do with being away from the overwhelming crowd than anything. It was funny; there was crowd of people, many of whom she worked with on a daily basis, and here she was, happier outside and alone.

If that wasn't antisocial, then she didn't know what was.

The clubhouse doors creaked behind her and she whirled around to find Jax, alone, stumbling out onto the pavement with unsteady feet. His eyes were focused intently on the lighter in his hands and he struggled for a few moments to bring his cigarette to the flame. Then he inhaled deeply, blowing out the smoke through his nostrils, as he ambled further down the clubhouse's walkway.

When his eyes finally shifted away from the pavement and to his left, Jax's cloudy blue eyes widened as his brain finally caught up to his senses. He fumbled around in his pockets, trying to shove his long-forgotten lighter back into one, and promptly stomped the cigarette out on the pavement in front of him. That flick of his wrist seemed so familiar and it occurred to her that he'd done that every time they'd come in contact with each other since she'd started working at T-M.

That still didn't erase the rest of the night's events. And she was too tired and her feet hurt from these stupid heels she'd tried to squeeze into. She just wanted to crawl into her bed and forget everything and everyone.

"That was quick," she bit out.

Unlike the outburst she'd spurted thoughtlessly to Donna only about twenty minutes before, she didn't regret saying it.

But he just shrugged and shoved his hands into his front pockets. "Yeah, well, I guess it was a pretty poor showing on my part."

"I'm sure Thing 1 and Thing 2 are crying into their beers right now."

His eyebrows rose in amusement and a grin twisted into his lips as he shuffled closer to her. Shit, that wasn't exactly the reaction she was going for. Well, she wasn't exactly sure what type of reaction she was going for but that definitely wasn't it. The closer he got, the more her heart thudded anxiously in her chest. For a moment, that glassy look in his eye veered towards something else...not exactly threatening but not exactly friendly either. And that did nothing for her nerves because he just kept coming closer. There was nothing in her past experience to prepare her for this; it was just happening way too fast for her to get a grip.

Jax's whole body suddenly seemed to halt and his knees buckled underneath them. Instinct sent her arms immediately out to his shoulders to keep him steady on his feet and just as it felt like he'd regained his balance, his head jerked forward and his stomach violently emptied itself in front of him. All over her shoes.

There was no time to think about irony or karma here. She immediately went into damage control mode as he sunk lower-still puking-and she had to awkwardly shift their weight to keep them both from sliding down into the mess he'd just made all over the grass. And on her shoes. Becca was going to be so pissed.

"Shit," Jax panted as he gasped for air, his hands fisted tightly into his knees. "I'm so fucking sorry. I-"

Another wave of vomit interrupted those words and she had to glance away with a grimace, barely able to keep her eyes open as he heaved out into the grass. All she could do was hold his shoulders and hope it was helping. She found herself rubbing a hand on his leathered back soothingly until he came back up for air, his head still cautiously hovering in between his knees.

"Fuck," he sputtered and she winced again as he spit into the grass a few more times. She knew exactly why he was doing it; that didn't mean she wanted to see it though.

He straightened up a little bit but she kept her hands firmly glued to his shoulders just in case. After he wiped his mouth and his watering eyes, he was standing completely upright with both hands over his face.

"Jax..." she started softly. One hand fell from his face so he could look at her. "Let's get you back inside. Should we go through the front door or...?"

He immediately shook his head, still tottering a little unsteadily on his feet.

"There's a back door," he mumbled in between deep inhales. "You don't have to...you don't have to do anything; I'll be fine. I'll just go find Ope or somethin'..."

Even as he spoke, his knees started to buckle again and her arms shot out to chest to help stead him.

"Opie took Donna home about ten minutes ago...looks like you're stuck with me," Isabelle whispered loudly, grasping hold of his arms to steady him. "Come on, let's go. Just...try to stay on your feet, okay? You go down, I go down."

Somehow, he managed to chuckle under his breath in spite of their current predicament and swung an arm around her waist to balance himself. When his fingers brushed the space between her shirt and her jeans, she abruptly grabbed his hand to move it to a position more appropriate given the situation.

"I swear to God, Jax," she muttered harshly. "If your hands go any lower, I will punch you in the face."

His hands immediately shot up in defense, his bloodshot eyes wide with surprise. "No touching...got it, I promise."

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Puking his guts out on the sidewalk-and on Isabelle's shoes-had, at the very least, sobered him up pretty quickly. Splashing some water on his face had helped too and now Jax was standing his bathroom, hands splayed over the sink, staring into the mirror. Shit if he even fucking recognized the reflection glaring back at him. This entire night was a new low for him. First, he'd gotten so plastered he could barely see two feet in front of him, then he hadn't been able to keep it up for Thing 1 and Thing 2, as Isabelle had so aptly called them, and now this-throwing up all over Isabelle's feet.

He'd never felt so embarrassed in his entire life. Thank God he'd been aware enough to remember the back entrance...otherwise the entire club would've been witness to this shit too. He'd had to rely heavily on Isabelle's much smaller frame to get himself through the door and into his dorm, which was in itself pretty damn shameful. Now she was waiting for him out in his room and all he wanted to do was just crawl down onto the cold floor and shut everything else out. And maybe throw up again.

But she didn't have to do what she did tonight. She could've easily just left him out there to his own devices but she had practically pushed him into the clubhouse herself. There were clearly better things she could've been doing with her night and that made him just want to hide even more. But he knew he needed to come out of there sometime. He figured he owed her that much after the shit she'd dealt with because of him tonight.

When he tentatively cracked the bathroom door open, he found her shuffling through some trash on his desk. She glanced up abruptly and smiled back him sheepishly.

"Hey, I was just looking for a cup or something to get you some water," she held up the coffee mug gingerly.

"Sure."

He stepped aside as she slid past him towards the sink. When his shins hit the side of his bed, something told him that sitting on his bed right now would be the wrong choice. He'd literally just had not one but two women naked in this same bed and here he was now with yet another one in his bathroom. Because the two circumstances were so wildly different, his stomach churned again just at the thought of Isabelle coming anywhere near his bed. So he slid down to the floor until he was resting somewhat comfortably with his back leaning against the side of his bed.

A water-brimmed coffee mug appeared in front of his face and his fingers slid around the edges to take it from her. He patted the ground next to him and his eyebrows rose at her evident indecision. Isabelle shifted a little from side to side, like she was weighing whether or not this was a good idea. Truth be told, as much as his head was pounding right now, he didn't really want to be alone. He'd been alone, really in every sense of the word, for the last two weeks. There was something about her that he couldn't quite put his finger on, something about the conversations they'd had that made him feel...something. Maybe it was just because he knew more personal details about her that he probably really knew about anybody-real pain and real loss-and that she'd come out of it on the other side. Maybe he just needed to see the evidence for himself that things would eventually get better for him too. Either way, he really needed her to sit down right now.

Finally, almost abruptly, she slid down next to him, careful to keep a safe distance away from him. That was just fine. He wasn't looking for that tonight-and hell if he was going to let her make a mistake like that with him of all people.

"Thanks, Isabelle," he murmured softly, boring a hole into the bathroom door directly in front of him.

"No problem," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was no big deal, Jax. It's not like I had anything else going on tonight."

He knew she'd meant it as a light joke but there was a hitch in her voice that had him wondering what she was even doing at the clubhouse tonight anyways.

"Aw, come on," he shook his head as he spoke. "Don't you have to avoid what's his name's texts or something like that?"

"I actually haven't heard from him in a few days-I took your advice, by the way. I guess it worked...at least I hope it did."

He held up two twisted fingers with a grin. "Fingers crossed, right, darlin'?"

"Right. So no desperate ex-boyfriend. No other prospects in the arena. What else did I have going on that was so pressing I couldn't help you out tonight?"

Jax nodded but that was still besides the point. "I mean, a girl like you has gotta have something better to do than hang out with shits like us, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"I guess I just figured someone that's got their shit together like you do would have better things to do," he shrugged. "And I don't mean anything by that...I just..."

What he wanted to say was that someone like her wasted her time with people like him. He was clearly a fucking trainwreck, off the rails and all-so why was she sitting here with him now? Besides, she was completely out of the realm of possibility for him or anyone in the clubhouse for that matter-there were miles in between her and the girls that were literally just in this same room. In a way, she almost reminded him of Donna, who was barely tolerant of the club's-and really, Opie's-shit simply because of who she'd chosen to love. He knew, unequivocally, that if not for Becca, Isabelle would've been somewhere else tonight.

"I just..." he started again. "I just feel like...I feel like shit."

It felt good to finally say that to someone. He knew everyone around him was thinking it-he knew he looked exactly like he felt too-but no one would say it to his face. At least he had the satisfaction of beating everyone else to the punch.

He waited for her to say something but then he realized that she was waiting for him to keep going. She was giving him permission to say whatever he needed to say.

"I guess...I haven't felt like myself for awhile now and I'm sorry you had to see me hit rock bottom tonight and hit every fuckin' bump on the way down."

When she was still silent next to him, he wondered if he'd shared too much-some things just aren't meant to be spoken out loud and the words had stung as they passed through his lips.

"Hey, Jax?"

His head immediately jerked at the sound of her voice. "Yeah?"

"I hope this isn't too..out of line for me to say this but I'm gonna say it anyways, alright?" She waited for his nod of approval before continuing. "My mom used to tell me that if a guy really wanted to be with you, I mean if he really loved you, he would move heaven and earth to be with you. He wouldn't let anything stand in the way of being with you and would do whatever it took to make things work. I think that applies to women too."

It took him a moment to completely process everything she'd just said. Instinctually, though, he knew exactly what she was getting at. And for some reason, it almost a relief to hear someone finally say it to him.

"So you're saying if Tara had really wanted to be with me, she never would've left in the first place?"

Her eyes widened slightly, like she'd just realized that maybe she'd overstepped and immediately bit down on her lip. " I just think you've been spending all this time and energy mourning something that was probably never going to work out anyways. I know I don't know everything about your relationship but from what I know about you and Tara, it was probably always headed that way, you know? You're never going to leave Charming and there's nothing wrong with that. This is your home. This is where your family is. There's no shame in that, Jax. But I guess Tara just wanted something different for herself. Maybe you were always headed in opposite directions...you just didn't see it that way."

"Doesn't make it hurt any fucking less," he mumbled almost inaudibly.

"I never said it doesn't, Jax."

At this point, she'd shifted her body so that her entire head was turned towards him. Her sky blue eyes seemed to glimmer in the soft lamplight just above her head and he had a sudden urge to sweep a wayward piece of hair off her face to tuck it behind her ear. But that would really be overstepping-that would crossing a line that he couldn't even touch with a ten-foot pole.

"It's just that..." she went on quietly. "It's hard to watch you do this to yourself. Random girls aside, I'd be willing to bet that the only time you're not drinking is when you're on the clock. Don't ask me how I know that...it's just that, Jesus, Jax-you're not taking care of yourself. I've never seen you eat a full meal at work these last two weeks and you've lost weight. You look like you haven't slept in days. You just...well, you look like shit. And I guess that makes sense if that's the way you feel."

Her words sliced through his chest, a direct hit on her target. Hearing all of that-everything he knew the people around him were thinking but wouldn't say to his face-was like a sharp slap in the face. The sting still lingered long after Isabelle turned her tired, pensive blue eyes back to the carpet in front of him. He wasn't ready to hear that yet. Granted, this was all something he needed to hear but that didn't mean he wanted to. She was right. He knew she was right. If she'd put money down on that bet, he would've had to pay up. The worst part was-she really didn't know him well enough to be able to just assume all this shit just by looking at him but she was right about everything.

Words failed him. It just didn't make any sense to him. She knew all this from what...observation? They were tentative acquaintances at best; they shared a lunch table together. That was it and yet she understood something so basic, so raw about him-it was like she took one look at his haphazardly constructed wall of booze and random sex and saw him exactly for what he was. Lost. But she didn't look at him like he was beyond repair. She looked at him like he could be glued back together.

And as that reality wove its way into his consciousness, the word he had been searching for surfaced. That was it. That was she made him feel.

"That's what it is," he whispered hoarsely, staring into the mug clenched in between his hands.

"What?"

"I've been tryin' to figure out what this is," he was grasping for words now. After everything that had happened tonight, he needed her to understand but he also needed her not to take this the wrong way. "When I'm talkin' to you...I feel like I'm normal. Like this shit isn't the end of the world..."

When Isabelle stiffened beside him, he immediately went into damage control mode.

"Shit, I didn't mean that you're not...fuck, that's not what I'm tryin' to say. I don't think that-I just mean that you make me feel normal. Like I'm not always going to feel this fucked up. Like I'm not some sort of god damn freak that everyone needs to tip-toe around and fucking whisper about like I'm not standing right fucking there."

It hadn't come out as eloquent as what she'd said to him but he figured it would have to be good enough. Isabelle had relaxed a little bit more and a ghost of a smile lifted her lips. Well, at least she didn't look like she wanted to slap the shit out of him. Maybe the message had been delivered as he'd intended.

"You know," she whispered back to him. "For the record, I really don't have my shit together."

"Sure you do."

She just shrugged, leaning forward to hug her knees into her chest. "Well, I don't. I don't think anybody really does."

He couldn't really argue with her there even though he wanted to say that someone like her, who'd been through just as much pain and destruction in her life as him, if not more, to not be falling down drunk, in some sort of facility, in bed with some random guy, or doing anything else that could be labeled self-destructive behavior-well, she was doing alright. Quitting law school and working at T-M didn't qualify as self-destructive in his book. But it was easier to just sit there next to her and enjoy this feeling, this normalcy for a little bit longer because soon, her cell phone buzzed her pocket and she slipped out of his dorm to meet up with Becca.

Then he was alone again. Alone and lost.

* * *

**A/N-I know I've said this before and I know that everyone wants them to get together already, it's not to be that easy. They both have a lot they have to figure out about themselves before they could ever really put themselves out there with another person. Luckily, they have each other to help...they just don't know it yet, haha. **

**The next chapter will be a little lighter and we'll see Jax come to Isabelle's aid and be her knight in shining leather, much to her dismay. He's not gonna do it for free-that's all I can tell you...**

**Thanks to everyone that's reviewed/alerted/favorited! The feedback really let's me know how I'm doing and that I'm on the right track with the characters and plot. Keep it coming!**


	6. Iz

"Come on, now," Opie yelled, thumping his fist against the counter. "One more! You can do it...I know you have it in you!"

"Oh god, no!" Becca cried out. "I can't look...oh my god, I think I'm gonna be sick. Don't...oh shit..."

"Do you not see that I'm goddamned pregnant here?" Donna demanded, one hand fisted into her hip and the other resting firmly on her stomach.

"I don't care," Jax shot back with a wide grin. "She's doin' it whether she likes it or not."

Isabelle gulped and then had to squeeze her eyes shut when swallowing down the mounting phlegm did nothing for her courage. Shit, that didn't work either. One eye flipped open and that was all it took to realize all four of her bar companions tonight were staring at her with either joyful expectancy or disgusted hesitancy. The nemesis of every girl who's ever taken a shot glared up at her and she met it head-on. Well, when someone dares you to take three Three Wise Men shots in a row, you can't turn him or her down. You just have to suck it up and do it.

She blew out a breath-more for strength than anything else-gripped the cold glass in between her slightly shaky hands, and then downed the entire contents. Nothing but sheer willpower kept it all from coming right back up. Just as the room seemed to twirl on its axis underneath her, a pair of strong hands ghosted across her back to hoist her up just enough to keep her balance. Given that Opie and Juice were to the right of her and the hands came from the left, it didn't take a genius to figure out who the hands belonged to.

"Easy there, killer," Jax laughed softly, keeping a hand lightly on her back to make sure she wouldn't sway again. A second later, his hands shot up to his chest in defense. "Sorry, no touching-I forgot about that, darlin'."

She swatted him easily in his leather-clad chest and shrugged. Donna slid a tall glass of water over to her with a mirthless, slightly disgusted expression and she knew it was only because she'd just made them both literally and figuratively sick.

"Don't worry about it, Jax," Isabelle replied, her eyes widening as she realized how much her words were slurring right then. Shit...she needed to take it easy for the rest of the night or she was going to be facedown in a bathroom somewhere. That water couldn't go down fast enough.

"I never lost faith in ya," Jax leaned in a little closer so she could hear him over the buzzing crowd behind them.

"Well, thanks," she laughed. "Now that I know I'm capable of such an amazing feat like that...I'll finally get to sleep tonight."

Jax's head fell back as his shoulders shook with laughter. "Good, I was worried about that, darlin'."

She felt his rough, calloused hand graze over her shoulder and then squeeze gently before snatching his hand back almost as quickly as he started. It was difficult to decide where the fluttering in her stomach was from-that whisper-like touch, or the copious amount of alcohol she'd just consumed. Probably both.

Although it had completely snuck up on her, their interactions with each other had subtly shifted since the night he'd emptied his stomach and his dignity all over her studded stilettos. The next morning at T-M, Jax had wordlessly set a bag of Gardhettos and an ice cold can of Mountain Dew on her desk and walked out of the office with a sly wink. A thoughtful, if not slightly cocky, gesture that only intensified the contradiction that clung to him. On the outside, he pulled on this persona of the careless, cool bad boy with swagger. Maybe that had worked when they were in high school but now, she knew better. Sure, he could probably still be classified as a 'bad boy' and he had swagger in spades, but that facade just crumbled whenever they were alone. The carefree asshole who buried himself in booze and pussy just because it was fun-and because he could-didn't exist. He wasn't an asshole. He was just...complicated.

In the two weeks since that night at the clubhouse, when she'd bluntly told him exactly what she thought of she-who-shall-not-be-named, an easy understanding had blossomed between them. The more time she spent with him, the easier it was be around him. She wasn't afraid to look or say anything stupid in front of him because, well, the way she figured she'd already buried herself in word vomit and he was still talking to her. What did she really have to lose at this point? So, the conversations at their shared picnic table carried on and their interactions had become..dare she say it...friendly. She had, above all odds and circumstance, become friends with Jax Teller and she knew this because she'd told him things about herself she'd never told anyone.

It was that thought that propelled her towards the bathroom for a break. Those shots of tar and sludge must have really went straight to her brain. A few splashes of water woke her up a little more and she quickly reapplied some powder so she wouldn't look so scary. A little more lip gloss didn't hurt either and with a deep breath, she pushed herself through the bathroom door only to collide with a mass of solid muscle.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry..."

Her hands immediately thrust out to steady herself and when she looked up, she found herself staring into a familiar pair of chocolate brown eyes.

"Brandon?"

"Isabelle?"

Brandon Davis was gaping back at her with a surprised but slightly bemused expression, beer in hand, and cigarette dangling between his fingers. For a moment, Isabelle forgot where she was. It was nothing short of a shock to see him standing here in front of her, at a dive bar in Charming no less. Five years ago, they'd parted ways, having the foresight to realize that a long-distance relationship, especially one that started in high school, wouldn't last longer than a few months once they were settling into colleges hours away from each other.

A beat later, she was enveloped into the strong arms she used to know so well.

"What the hell are you doin' here?" He exclaimed happily into her ear. "I thought you were back in town-how are you?"

Ah. Such a loaded question. But this wasn't the time to saddle him with any of that...if ever.

"I'm good," she pushed out quickly, wrapping her arms around his neck to embrace him back. "It's so great to see you."

"You too, Isabelle. Who ya here with?"

She pointed over his shoulder to where Becca was waving with a loopy smile on her face.

"Wait...is that? Jax Teller and Opie Winston?" Brandon frowned, gripping his beer bottle a little tighter. "You're here with Samcro? When did that happen?"

"Uh...I actually work at T-M now. Becca's dating one of the members and I guess it's all kinda relative then, you know?"

"Yeah...sure. So...you're working at T-M. Cool. Hey-"

"Yo, Brandon-you comin' or what?"

He turned his head and Isabelle had a clear view of the guys who were yelling and waving him over-they were the exact same burly, preppy football players Brandon had been friends with in high school. It shouldn't have been a surprise that, given he was in town, he would hang out with his old friends-after all, she'd known Becca since they were freshmen-but there was still a part of her that felt a little disappointed.

"Yeah...just give me a second, okay?" Brandon called back over his shoulder. When he turned back to her, he rubbed a hand nervously on the back of his neck. "So, um...I was wondering if you wanted to maybe, I don't know, get together sometime...I could take you for coffee or dinner or something so we can catch up...shit, it's just so good to see you...I must sound like a real asshole right now."

She laughed lightly with a smile and just shrugged. "No...no, you don't. It's really good to see you too."

"So..." he flashed her that boyish, dimpled, almost hesitant grin that had always sent a warm rush directly to her abdomen.

"I would tell you to call me but I have a new number since we dated."

"Well," he grinned widely. "We should take care of that, huh?"

In spite of the fact that they were standing right next to a grimy bathroom and standing on the sticky floor of a dive bar neither of them would've come within a mile of five years ago-and despite the fact that she hadn't spent all that much wondering what would've happened if they'd tried to stay together-she found herself smiling back at him. It really was good to see a familiar face, if not one she had so much history with. He looked exactly the way she remembered-dark hair mussed up messily with gel, a little bit of stubble, and lean, strong muscles peeking out from his shirt. In the time they'd spent away from each other, she'd forgotten just how easy it was to find herself enfolded tightly inside his warm eyes. It wasn't like they'd split because their relationship had crumbled-it was more like a realistic understanding, maybe even wise beyond their years, of what long distance could potentially do to them. At the time, it was the right decision for both of them. They were young and she wanted to experience college-and the world-just as much as he did. But circumstances were different now and college was in their rear view mirror.

So she gave him her number. After another embrace, he left to meet up with his party and she headed back towards hers. Becca wasted no time before she descended.

"Hey!" Becca untwisted herself from Juice long enough to grab her arm with an almost wicked expression. "Was that...Brandon Davis you were talking to?"

"Um, yeah," she replied a little hesitantly, acutely aware they had an audience.

"So..." Becca trailed off expectantly, completely oblivious to the fact that their group was currently listening to their every word.

"He asked for my number-I think we might get together sometime soon or something," she shrugged noncommittally in an effort to sound unfazed by the whole thing. If she was being completely honest with herself, it probably had something to do with the fact that Jax had visibly stiffened less than a foot away from her. Given _their_ history, she had no idea why this was bothering either of them.

"Okay," Becca nodded quickly. "So...what? Are you guys gonna...?"

"Shit, Bec, give me a second, alright?" Isabelle exhaled in exasperation. They had literally just reconnected and Becca was already jumping to delusions of grandeur. Was it too much to ask to have a little fucking breathing room?

"Okay, okay," Becca's eyes widened as she spoke. "Geez, simmer down, will ya? I just forgot how hot he was and I got all excited for you. So sue me."

Of course, it wasn't helping that all eyes and ears were still directed towards their conversation. All she wanted at this point was for Becca to just let it go-they could talk about it later...as soon as their current company was occupied by something else. All four of them were watching this play out with a varied mix of interest, mostly from Donna, and annoyance, mostly from Opie and Juice. Jax was a harder read, landing somewhere in the middle as he stood a little too close for comfort with his arms folded tightly across his chest.

"Hey," Juice interjected. "I'm standing right here-"

"Aw, come on," Becca swatted him playfully in the chest. "You know this has nothing to do with you..."

When Juice started nuzzling her neck, that was more than anybody needed to see and she had to look away before her eyes started bleeding. Unfortunately, when she turned her head, her eyes collided with Jax. The cloudy glint in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine and shaking that off proved easier said than done. She smiled tightly-more so to reassure herself than anything else-and nearly closed her eyes with relief when the gesture was returned.

There was no point in stressing over something she couldn't control anyways. All she could control was herself...that definitely needed to be her new mantra.

* * *

The stupid part just wouldn't slide in where he needed it do. It was beyond frustrating-he'd triple-checked to make sure he'd sized it right and greased it-and the damn thing still wouldn't go where he needed it to go. The fucking story of his life. Great, now he was thinking in metaphors and analogies. Jesus Christ, he was turning into a melodramatic chick. One more turn of his wrench and finally, the damn thing slid into place. About time.

And just in time for his break too. He'd spent way too much time and energy on one project and he could tell his mother was about ready to rip him a new one. Speed and efficiency, she always drilled into his head, and today, it was painfully obvious that his job performance wasn't exactly up to the auto mechanic Nazi's standards. But then again, Gemma didn't exactly have realistic standards for just about anything so he figured he shouldn't feel too bad.

He tossed a spent towel into a bin and headed straight for the parking lot, careful to keep his head down. Maybe if he didn't make eye contact with anyone, he wouldn't get stopped-he just really needed to sit down and clear his head. Part of him was curious to talk to Isabelle-the rumor was that she'd been out with that asshole Brandon Davis a few times and that they were getting back together. Although he didn't typically make a habit of giving a shit about other people's personal lives, this new development was more than a little unnerving. Did he want to see Isabelle happy? Of course he did. But did that mean she had to get back together with a douchebag like Davis in order to do it? Absolutely not. It really wasn't any of his business to begin with but he couldn't forgo the need to find out what exactly was going on there.

As he rounded the corner of the garage and stepped out onto the pavement, he almost skidded to a stop. The picnic table was empty. For the last three weeks or so, it had been like clockwork-his breaks almost always coincided with Isabelle's and he was positive they were scheduled to take the same break today. So where the hell was she? Maybe Gemma or some customer was throwing her off schedule but from what he'd seen, Isabelle was punctual to a fault. She hated being late for anything.

With a shrug, he plopped himself down on the bench and dug into his back pocket for his cigarettes. The good news-he could have a cig and not feel like a piece of shit for smoking in front of Isabelle. He still couldn't bring himself to light one up when she was even in the same vicinity as him for fear she'd realize what he was doing. The bad news-he had to sit here by himself. Lunch was really going to fucking suck today.

He'd just dug his sandwich out of the bag when he heard footsteps feverishly slapping the pavement behind him. Before he even had a split second's chance to see what the hell was going on, her voice called out to him.

"Jax!" Isabelle panted breathlessly, skidding to a rapid walk as she past the garage and then high-tailing it towards their picnic table as soon as she was out of sight. "Oh my god, I'm so glad I found you...you have to help me-I'm so screwed!"

"Whoa," he held his hands up with a chuckle. "Slow down there, darlin'. What's goin' on?"

"He's coming!" she sputtered anxiously, resting a nervous hand on his shoulder as she got her wind back. "He's gonna be here in less than an hour and I am so royally fucked!"

"Who's gonna be here?" He frowned.

She dropped down into the bench across from him and ran her hands over her face. "Dan. I told him I was seeing someone else and for a while, I thought it worked. I hadn't heard from in at least a week and then all of a sudden he calls me out of the blue today and says that he isn't going to let me make the biggest mistake of my life and that he's coming to Charming and he won't leave until I at least agree to come back to Stanford with him."

Jax's eyebrows shot up to his forehead.

"Shit," he muttered as he tugged a hand through his hair.

"Shit is right," Isabelle grumbled into her hands. "You have to help me...I don't know what else to do...I'm can't believe I'm asking you to do this but-will you please, please come to my house with me and pretend you're my boyfriend...I just have to convince him that I'm serious and because I fuckin' lied to him in the first place, I'm don't know what else I can do to get him stay away from me."

Because his instincts kicked into high gear at that last part, his brain failed to register the first part.

"Wait a second, you're not worried this guy is gonna try to hurt you, right? I mean, you'd tell me if he might try somethin' or..."

"No," she waved a hand dismissively in the air. "Dan is the least violent person I've ever met in my life but that doesn't mean he's just gonna go away easily...please, Jax. I'll do anything-whatever you want, just...please."

"Wait, why can't you get what's-his-name...dipshit Davis to play boytoy. You're seein' him again, aren't you? What do you need me for?"

He didn't necessarily feel like being a stand-in today, especially not for a douchebag like Brandon Davis. Besides, he'd just literally sat down to eat lunch.

She rolled her eyes and huffed out a laugh. "I can't ask the guy I'm actually interested in to pretend to be my boyfriend. How the hell would I ever explain that?"

"I see your point. So..." he trailed off, trying to wrap his head around what she was asking. And then a sly grin slipped onto his lips. "You want me to drop everything, go to your house because you lied-"

"To be fair, you gave me the idea," she cut in a little too sharply.

"Calm down now," he grinned as he rubbed his stubble thoughtfully. "Let's get to the bottom of this, shall we?"

"Jesus Christ, Jax! I don't have time for this horseshit...I'm serious here!"

"Okay, okay...Jesus, Isabelle, I think workin' at T-M has completely destroyed your vocabulary," he countered playfully. "So let me get this straight-I go to your house with you and get this guy off your back and...what? What do I get?"

She blew out a frustrated breath and slammed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Whatever you want...now will you do it? Please? We have to leave like...yesterday here."

"Oh no," he shook his head. "I wanna make sure I milk this for all it's worth. Now, let me see...what do I want? What do I want?"

He stroked his chin to add to the dramatics and his eyes glinted evilly when the gesture only made her fidget anxiously in her seat. He was enjoying this way more than he should be...but something about seeing her so frustrated, almost vulnerable even, and he just couldn't resist this golden opportunity to mess with her. Usually, the tables were turned on him with her having the solid upper hand. Let's see...what request would make her blind with rage?

"I got it," he snapped his fingers for effect. "I wanna see you in that little skirt you always wore for cheerleading and I wanna see at least three high kicks or no deal."

Her face crumpled in pure disbelief. "You can't be serious."

Jax leaned forward with a wickedly triumphant grin. "Like the plague, darlin'."

Her face turned bright red as she shook her head furiously. Shit, for a second, he thought he saw steam coming out of her ears.

"No...no, absolutely not. There's seriously something wrong with you. Anything else but that."

"Okay," he rubbed his chin again. "Then I get to call you Iz whenever I want."

"WHAT?"

"You heard me," he laughed. "I get to call you Iz or no deal."

Her face slipped into an solemn mask as she appraised his offer with icy calculation. He could practically read her mind-she was clearly weighing her options here. Risk her little lie falling to shambles and having to deal with the shitstorm that followed in its wake or having to suffer through that despised nickname indefinitely? Of course, to him, the choice was obvious.

"Fine," she bit out through clenched teeth. "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this...whatever. Can we leave soon? I already talked to your mom and told her I had an emergency I had to take care of...I'm sure if we just-"

"I'll handle it," he offered. "Just go grab your shit and I'll meet you by my bike."

"Okay, right. I'll just..." she trailed off and he just grinned wolfishly back at her. "Wait...what?"

"Well, sure; if you're my old lady-even if it's just pretend, babe-you're ridin' bitch on my bike."

She stared blankly back at him. "You're messing with me, right?"

"Aw, come on...you know you want to," he spread his arms out and gestured towards his Dyna.

"Jesus Christ," she shook her head. "I'm gonna grab my purse and I'll meet you at my house, alright?"

"Whatever you say, boss."

* * *

When Jax parked his bike behind Isabelle's Trans-Am-parking in her driveway all in the name of pretense-and he almost froze in surprise as his gaze traveled up to the house that lied just beyond the brick driveway. To be fair, he'd been very aware of not only what side of Charming she lived on but where her neighborhood was located. And he was fully expecting to see an expensive, well cared for, and elegant house in front of him. But seeing the sprawling, two-story brick house with its modern arches, fancy outer lights, and carefully trimmed landscaping was another sensory experience altogether. It was miles away from not only the clubhouse but the house he spent his childhood in.

He didn't have much of a chance to ruminate on those thoughts any further because Isabelle was already skidding towards him, her eyes darting around in near panic.

"Oh shit," she was muttering to herself. "This isn't gonna work...what was I thinking? I never should've lied to him-I should've just kept ignoring him."

"Hey now," he soothed gently, taking her by the shoulders. "Everything's gonna be fine. Just let me do most of the talking, alright? I'm probably gonna have to touch you so...there's that too."

Her eyes widened sharply at that admission and he had to chew on his bottom lip to keep from grinning at her predicament. In her haste and abrupt planning, she clearly hadn't considered what this might actually all entail. Oh yes, touching would be required. Besides, if she wanted to pull this off, it needed to look as real as possible, which meant touching.

"Okay, okay," she was nodding now and sucked in a deep breath. "So, you should probably know that I told him we work together and that I'm really happy and I did say many, many times that he should stop talking to me and..."

She trailed off as a silver Camaro pulled into the driveway, all words seemingly caught in her throat. Snapping into action, he figured the only way to play this scenario was to treat it just like any other club business. Play it cool. Don't show any unnecessary emotion. Never back down. He leaned forward until his fingers hooked around her hips to pull her closer. Her breath hitched in her throat and he decided to turn off the part of him that enjoyed feeling her this close to him.

"Everything's gonna be fine," he whispered into her ear before she could say anything. "Just let me handle this guy, alright?"

She nodded silently, staring back him with wide eyes. It was her nervous expression that kicked his instincts into high gear. He wouldn't let himself think about how she smelled like flowery vanilla and spices or just how clear and how blue her eyes were or the fact that he couldn't tear his eyes away from her lips, slightly parted in a way that made him want to know what they tasted like.

But he wasn't here for that. She'd asked him for help and that was what he planned on doing. Hell, he really hadn't expected anything in return-he would've done it for nothing. Getting to call her Iz again was just icing on the cake.

When he turned his attention back to the driveway, Isabelle's ex-what the hell was his name again?-was stalking up to them with narrowed, suspicious eyes. The guy was really everything he'd been expecting from his clean cut clothes to his carefully styled hair. From the second he stepped out of his lame car, Jax could read the abrupt judgment clouding this douchebag's eyes. He probably saw the bike, the cut, and figured he knew exactly what he was dealing with. Unfortunately for this guy, he had no idea what he was stepping into.

"Isabelle..." the dipshit started as he approached them.

There were a few things about this that already set Jax on edge. One-he really didn't like the way this guy was advancing on them, with his determined gaze set intently on Isabelle like she was some sort of obstacle or prize to be won. Two-he really didn't appreciate the way this guy said her name. There was just something about his tone that was worse than condescending-it was like he expected her to just drop everything and go running to him. Fat fucking chance of that ever happening.

"Dan," Isabelle started shakily. "I told you not to come."

Dan just shook his head and was practically hopping up the sidewalk steps to get closer to them. "And I told you that I'm not gonna let you make the worst mistake of your life."

Jax took that as his cue to step in.

"Look, man," he jumped in quickly. "I think you should leave-Isabelle clearly doesn't want you here so turn around and head back to wherever it is you came from."

Now Dan's attention was exclusively on him, his eyes clouded over in annoyance. "I take it you're the new boyfriend."

Jax stepped forward, maybe a little too aggressively given the situation, and stood a little taller. "That's right and I will happily escort you off the property if you can't take care of that yourself."

For good measure, he looped an arm around Isabelle's hips to draw her flush up against him. It didn't matter that she stiffened slightly into him-this asshole needed to be put in his place and he was going to enjoy being the one to hand it to him.

Dan's gaze shifted unsteadily to the arm that was wrapped around his ex-girlfriend's waist and then back up to them. It was anyone's guess when this loser was going to get the message.

"Look," Dan took another step closer to Isabelle and was stupid enough to reach for her too. "Do you think maybe we could go somewhere-alone-and talk about this rationally?"

"Hey-" Jax moved forward but was halted by Isabelle's hand pushing him gently in the chest to stop him.

"Dan," she started solemnly. "Jax isn't leaving but I think you should. There's nothing left to say and I'm really sorry you drove all the way here just to hear that but-"

"I'm not going anywhere until you listen to what I have to say, Isabelle," Dan replied firmly.

"That's too bad," Jax retorted hotly. "Because she's not goin' anywhere either."

When Dan's eyes narrowed, taking on a grim, ominous glint, and Jax instinctively shifted his body so that he was standing directly between this pathetic asshole and his friend. He wasn't happy about the way this was going and he also didn't appreciate the fact that this guy clearly wasn't listening to what Isabelle was so obviously trying to communicate. Before all this had started, he'd been hoping he wouldn't have to get physical and now-well, he was looking forward to it.

"Dan," Isabelle tried again. "We've already had this conversation and I'm not having it with you again...especially not like this. I would really appreciate if you just left."

Dan looked helplessly from Isabelle to Jax and then back to Isabelle again. He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a deep breath, like he was weighing his options.

"Look, Isabelle," he spread his hands out wide with a slight shake of his head. "Just let me say what I need to say and then I'll go."

Isabelle looked nervously to Jax, almost like she was asking for permission, and when he nodded curtly in Dan's direction, Dan's face relaxed with a sigh of relief.

"Just answer me one question, okay?" Dan pleaded, an almost debilitated expression crossing his features.

"What, Dan?"

"Are you happy here in Charming?" Before she could respond, he quickly held up a hand so he could clarify. "This doesn't have anything to do with him or even us-it's just a simple question. Are you happy here? Do you like your life here?"

Well, Jax had to give it him. He'd wondered that himself on numerous occasions and each time it'd crossed his mind, he'd always seemed to come to the same conclusion: how could she? After she'd told him the details of how and why she'd left Stanford, he'd been able to wrap his head around her reasons for leaving. That made sense to him and it also fell in line with everything he knew about her. What he couldn't reconcile was what she was doing in Charming-while she claimed Charming was just a means to an end, that she was staying here just until she came up with a plan, something about that just didn't quite add up. She didn't belong in Charming, at least not for the long haul. Someone like her...well, she deserved more than what Charming had to offer.

Isabelle was quiet for a few moments and Jax found himself anxiously holding his breath in anticipation.

"I don't know," she whispered finally. "But I do know that I wasn't happy at Stanford and I wasn't happy with you either."

"You don't belong here, Isabelle; you never did and you know it. Don't sell yourself short-you're so goddamned smart and you could do anything you wanted to so why waste yourself here in this place? You told me how much you couldn't wait to leave, how suffocated you felt here so coming back just doesn't make any sense to me-not when there are better places for you to be. This just isn't the right place for you, Isabelle."

After he'd said his peace, Dan took an exhausted, spent step backwards. If that was what he'd come here to do then Jax figured he'd accomplished it. Besides, there was a part of him that couldn't blame the guy for feeling that way.

He felt Isabelle tense under the weight of his arm and could practically hear her heart thumping wildly in her chest. Waiting for her to respond was like waiting for time to stand still-it just seemed to go on and on. Maybe she was delaying a response because she didn't want to hurt this guy's feelings anymore than she already had but still, at this point, it felt like they both deserved some sort of resolution.

"Dan," Isabelle finally began, her voice steady and firm. "I appreciate that you care enough about me that you drove all the way here to say that. I get where you're coming from...I really do but it's not your responsibility to tell me where I belong and where I don't. You don't have that right and honestly, you never did. To tell you the truth, I have no idea where I should be or if Charming is the right place for me but I do know that I never belonged at Stanford. I'm sorry you can't understand that but where I go and what I do from here is my decision, not yours."

Jax's eyes widened slightly at her words-he'd half-expected her to yell at Dan, to demand that he remove himself from her property and from her life but he hadn't expected her to handle that like...such an adult. He thought of all the times he and Tara had screamed at each other, how she'd thrown anything at his head she could get her hands on, how he'd gotten so blinded with rage he'd almost physically lashed out at her on several occasions, and neither had ever shown any kind of restraint, control, or clarity at the very end. But now here was an example of how it should've gone-with maturity and consideration, not a blatant, selfish disregard for the other person's feelings, let alone needs. The reality of the differences between Isabelle's situation and his own were staggering.

"Alright," Dan nodded slowly, seeming to recognize a lost cause when he saw one. "If that's really what you want and the way you feel then...I guess I'll just go."

"Thank you, Dan," she reaffirmed, untwisting herself from Jax's embrace so she could wrap her arms around her ex-boyfriend one last time. "I know you don't understand but this is where I need to be right now...bye."

"Bye, Isabelle," Dan smiled tightly as he released her, his hands sliding down to ball up into fists at his sides. Then, he abruptly turned towards Jax and extended a hand out to him. There was nothing left to do but oblige him so Jax silently shook his hand with a sharp nod.

"Take care of her," Dan pushed out with a hard edge.

"I will," Jax promised with a slight nod.

Then, Dan backpedalled for a few beats-probably for one last look-and then turned on his heel. When his car was down the street, Jax finally felt Isabelle relax next to him.

"Thank god that's over," she exhaled.

"Hey," he threw an arm over her shoulder and tucked her gently into his side. "It's done; he's gone and I gotta say, Iz, I'm impressed."

Her eyes rolled at the nickname but she was just going to have to get used to it. He hadn't needed to do all that much to earn the right to call her that but he was going to take it however he could get it.

"Oh really?" She threw back at him. "And why's that?"

"Just the way you handled yourself," he shrugged easily, enjoying the fact that she was still nestled into his shoulder. "You didn't back down, Iz. That couldn't have been easy and you know, I don't think you even really needed me anyways."

"Are you kidding?" She rose an eyebrow at him incredulously. "I don't think I could've gotten him to leave until my dad got home from work and that would've been a whole other battle in itself...I think it was the nail in the coffin he needed to see, you know?"

"Yeah, you're probably right..." he trailed off, searching for the right words here. "So...you okay?"

Her eyes were still on the car fading out into the distance. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Good," he squeezed her shoulder and grinned down at her. "You think we should head back to T-M now? Gemma's probably been gnawing her arm off since both of us left. Not sure how I'm gonna explain that one but she'll just have to deal with it."

She chuckled and for a moment, rested her head lightly against his shoulder. The second she realized what she was doing, her neck immediately propped itself back up and she gently lifted herself up and out of his grasp. As he swung his leg around his bike to follow her back to the garage, he was struck by a strange thought. Hell, this whole day had been strange. But given the uniqueness of the situation, he hadn't prepared himself for how easy it was to fall back into the role of protector. At the end of the day, it didn't really matter that she hadn't needed his help as much as either of them had anticipated. But it felt good to be needed again-to be good for something other than pity and frustration. Maybe that was why it had been so easy, why it was so natural for him to just slide into that role. He'd almost forgotten what it that felt like and honestly, it felt good to need to protect someone again.

But, he reasoned, Isabelle was his friend and whether she knew it or not, her little predicament had once again lifted him up and drawn him closer to real life. Every encounter, every conversation with her and he just felt more normal than he had before. Life had a funny way of making itself known-who knew such an ill-advised lie and even more ill-advised timing would serve to propel him closer to reality. And who was he kidding anyways...if this was what it took to push his way back into the land of the living, well, maybe it wasn't going to be as bad as he thought it would be.

* * *

**A/N-Don't worry! I think Isabelle needs to get involved with someone from her past again to help her figure out what she wants and what she doesn't want (and, I think we're all in agreement here, Jax needs to see her with someone else too, don't you think?) But that being said, this new guy (or I guess old) won't be around for too long. **

**I hope everyone enjoyed this-it wasn't quite as light as I had originally intended but I'm happy with the result. Let me know what you think! **


	7. Midnight Crisis

For whatever reason, Isabelle couldn't get out of Brandon's shiny new truck fast enough. Everything about their date had gone exactly as planned and exactly as she'd anticipated. He'd picked her on time, was genuinely polite, had taken her to a nice restaurant for a nice meal, and that was probably just the most accurate way to describe the evening: nice. It was fine. Everything had been fine.

But as soon as her driveway came into view, a breath of relief escaped her before she even realized what was happening. This was the fourth time they'd been out together in the last few weeks and each date had been just like this. Nice. Fine. Completely reliable and predictable. Just like it used to be...five years ago.

His hands felt nice when they trailed up and down her body a few minutes ago and his warm breath kissing her neck had made her skin tingle. She'd closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of a man's touch-it had been a while since she'd had any prospects in this arena and...it was nice. There was that awful, horribly vague adjective again. Nice. Fine. She really needed to find a different way to describe how she was feeling.

The problem was, she realized as Brandon followed her up to her front door, that she couldn't pinpoint exactly what she was feeling. Reconnecting with him had been a welcome surprise-she hadn't realized how much she'd missed him until they'd sat down for a coffee on their first 'get-together' again. It was amazing how quickly she could forget all the little things-the things she used to think to herself she'd always remember-especially after so much time had passed. But then, it was like they just snapped right back into it, minus some initial awkward getting-to-know-you-again small talk. It was almost like they had actually stayed in touch over those five years and that nothing had changed.

If she was being completely honest with herself, that was the part that bothered her the most. How was it possible for her to just fall back into this so easily? And was it really that easy or was she misinterpreting everything that was happening here? The simplest answer was that she was over-analyzing, which was probably true, but that didn't make it any less difficult to swallow.

"So I'll see you tomorrow, right?" Brandon's soft voice yanked her abruptly from her perpetually frustrating thoughts.

"What? Oh...right, yeah, tomorrow."

Shit. She'd almost gotten herself to forget all about that.

"You must kinda like me if you're letting me hang out with your friends, huh?" He grinned, wrapping an arm comfortably around her shoulders.  
Something like that.

"Yeah, I guess so," she laughed tightly and prayed he didn't pick up on the anxiety she was sure was evident in her voice.

Honestly, Brandon and his friends trying to hang out in the same bar as Jax, Opie, Juice, Donna, and Becca was going to be...well, if the night ended without anyone storming off or getting smashed in the head with a broken beer bottle, then she supposed it would have to be considered a success. She was anticipating a disaster of tsunami proportions. Brandon, Samcro, and beer was like the perfect storm.

It wasn't so much that there had been a constant war between them in high school or anything. There was just a pattern. A pattern of dislike and under-the-table disrespect. Whenever they passed each other in the hallway, it was like one of those old western movies she used to watch with her dad. The gunslingers standing at attention when their opponent stepped within sight, fingers itching to draw at a split second's notice, waiting for the other to strike. While Brandon would easily play on the 'cool jock' vibe to get under everyone else's skin, Jax was like a coiled snake, just waiting for Brandon to step just far enough over the line. Luckily for everyone involved, that line was never crossed while they were still in high school and after graduation, there had never been another reason for Brandon and Jax to ever interact.

But that didn't mean that she hadn't inadvertently put them on a collision course for disaster. All she could do was hope that a public setting and some distance would be enough of a deterrent. She could hope.

"Is it alright if I call you later?" Brandon was asking now, bringing her close enough to whisper it in her ear.

That soft voice in her ear and that warm breath against her neck used to make her legs turn into jelly. There was no point in focusing on words and phrases like "used to" or "nice" or "fine". Wasn't it enough that they were trying to get back what they'd lost? Wasn't it enough that he was doing everything she could possibly ask him to do? Everything seemed to be happening here on her terms-when she wanted to be picked up, where she wanted to go, what she wanted to do, and how long she wanted to do it for. He really hadn't pushed her into anything she hadn't wanted to do and when he kissed her, his warm lips explored her mouth with a nice, easy pace. There was that fucking word again.

Then she registered what he'd just asked her and a fluttering of annoyance crept up into her stomach. They had literally just spent nearly four hours together by the time they got to the restaurant, had a few drinks, had dinner, and then talked some more. What else did they have to talk about tonight?

"Um, sure..." she offered hesitantly. "Well, I'm probably going to be working for a while tonight so..."

Please get it...and please don't take it the wrong way.

A glimmer of understanding flickered across his chocolate eyes and he nodded. "Oh okay, you're drawing some pictures again tonight? Sure, no problem. I'll just call you tomorrow then, alright?"

She had to swallow back the sudden urge to lash out at him for calling her work, her passion, 'drawing some pictures'. He might as well have just called it doodling and been done with it. Right about now, she was really regretting telling him she'd started to draw again.

"Yeah, sure," she replied tightly. "That sounds good."

He leaned forward and pressed a light kiss into her lips. "Can I come in for a little while?"

That sent a few shockwaves of panic right through her. The first thought that sliced through her mind was of her dad...was he home? And if he was, what would they find? As soon as that passed, she found herself shaking off more irritation. The night was over, wasn't it? They'd said goodnight, he'd said he was going to call her again...so why did he have to push her for more?

It didn't take a genius to figure out why he wanted to come inside. If she let him inside her house, he would expect to get something, at the very least. That was particularly annoying too.

So she just politely shook her head no and he just grinned back at her, clearly unfazed by the rejection. He pulled her into a quick hug and she found herself wondering when he would just leave already.

"'Night, Isabelle."

"'Night, Brandon."

"Sweet dreams."

She smiled at that...it was something he always used to say before leaving her house and it was that breath of nostalgia that finally suppressed her budding agitation. When the door was finally closed behind her, she leaned up against it and released a deep sigh of relief. All she wanted to do was sit in her room, turn some music on, and work out whatever the hell she was feeling on paper. It was the only thing that was going to erase this restlessness.

She peeked in her dad's bedroom and closed her eyes. The empty bedroom was equally a source of relief and uneasiness. Sure, she had the house all to herself but that was only until he called her, probably falling down drunk in some random bar, wallowing in grief and loss. It was that thought that forced her to trudge into her own room.

When she was sitting on her bed, notebook splayed out on the bedspread, music on, and pencil in hand, it was almost like there was too much going on in her head to focus. And when she glanced up, she could've sworn her room had somehow gotten smaller over the span of thirty seconds. Her left leg was jumping anxiously over the side of her bed and the pencil twitched in her hand. Nothing but a clean blank page stared back up at her.

She couldn't remember the last time this had happened. During the last two months, all it took to get that creative spark going was shutting her door, turning on some music, and opening her notebook. Now it was all she could do to just focus on the blank page, let alone feel even remotely focused enough to actually make the pencil dance across it.

"Shit, shit, shit," she muttered to herself, running a hand over her face.

She knew exactly why she couldn't just calm down and focus. Nothing was going the way it was supposed to. Nothing about her life was working the way she wanted it to. And now...she couldn't even do the one thing she loved the most. She felt stunted, trapped in arrested development. Her date with Brandon only highlighted what was wrong here. All the gains she'd been trying to make but was failing miserably at. All the changes she'd promised herself she'd make but had yet done nothing about.

Moving back to Charming had seemed like an easy answer at the time. It was a solid, defensible solution to the mounting feeling like she was on the wrong path in life. She'd foolishly believed that coming home would solve all her problems: she'd somehow figure out what she wanted to do with her life and help her dad see that he was ruining his. The real problem was that she'd never really taken that extra step and thought about how she was actually going to make all that happen.

And now here she was-completely stranded. Stuck in place. Alone in her room. All these grand plans to stop living her life for everyone else and nothing to show for it. Only now, she didn't have her mom to go running to for help. Her mom wasn't here anymore to tell her everything was going to alright or that everything had a way of working itself out or that she would always be there when she needed her. Her mom was gone. And her dad was on his way out too.

The twitching and jumping had gotten so bad that before long, she found herself hustling out of her room and grabbing her keys. She was down the driveway before she could even consider stopping herself. Calling Becca wasn't really an option-she didn't want to bother her with this or worse, worry her. She was a big girl and could take care of herself...at least that was what she had to tell herself. And, she reasoned, her dad would be calling for a ride in a little while and she might as well already be up and around town.

She briefly flirted with the idea of texting Donna-her ally in the clubhouse and who she had somehow struck up a friendship with-and then immediately decided against it. Maybe she just needed to drive around, maybe stop somewhere for coffee or something-anything to get her mind back to a more normal pace. So it wasn't necessarily by choice that she ended up in Lumpy's parking lot-her recent, embarrassing history there made it the one place in Charming she went completely out of her way to avoid-but it was the only place around that was decent and still open.

On the bright side, the coffee was good and the pie was always homemade fresh. She supposed she had to take any silver lining she could get.

* * *

Splashing some cold water on his face hadn't helped much. Jax rested both hands over the side of the sink and exhaled deeply. He was so fucking tired that his body just felt heavy. He wanted to sleep; he really did. But his mind just wouldn't let him rest. There wasn't one particular thing that nagged at him-it was more like everything was nagging at him.

Clay was on his ass about stepping up and proving to the club that he wasn't a complete pussy. There hadn't been much he could do other than to swear that he was fine and that he was over "whatever bug had crawled up his ass", as Clay had so eloquently put it. There would be no heart to hearts, no therapy session with his step-father-hell, he couldn't even allow himself to go there with his mother. All he needed to do was convince Clay and the rest of the club that everything was back to normal. The absolute last thing he needed was anyone questioning his loyalty or commitment to the club.

Which, unfortunately, meant he needed to quit hitting the bottle so hard. Which, unfortunately, also meant he couldn't drink himself into oblivion until he passed out anymore. It was the only thing that helped him sleep and until now, he'd thought it had virtually gone unnoticed. Funny how that shit had worked itself out.

So he needed to be careful and he needed to show his brothers that he was turning himself around, that things were sliding back into place, and everything was normal again. The problem with that, though, was he wasn't turning himself around-at least not really. While every day did get a little bit easier, that didn't mean he didn't wake up at night in a panic, drenched in sweat. That didn't mean the heaviness in his body was any lighter or that the open, gushing flesh wound Tara inflicted in her wake was any closer to scarring over. He wasn't better. He wasn't over it. And he just couldn't forget.

No amount of drunken nights with some random girl in his bed would ever get him there. He knew that. He just had to pretend like it was all water under the bridge, like he was glad to finally be rid of Tara, like he was better off without her. Whenever shit got hard, he tried repeating Isabelle's words in his head: _if she really wanted to be with him, she would've moved heaven and earth to make it happen._ That helped a little bit but not enough. Maybe in a few more months, if he had a little more time, he'd be able to take that more to heart. But right now, the anguish in his chest just wouldn't dissipate.

So, sleep was something of an enigma to him. It just wasn't happening.

In a brief moment of weakness, his fingers itched to grasp the neck of a bottle of Jack. There was no doubt in his mind it would take care of his problem in a half hour, if not sooner. But he'd promised Clay and the rest of the club that he was turning his shit around and even one pull from the bottle now would feel like a betrayal to that promise. He briefly considered grabbing the first girl he could find in the clubhouse but shook it from his thoughts. As soon as the deed was done, he would just be alone again-hell, he'd probably feel more alone after than before.

Well, he figured, he wasn't going to be sleeping, he might as well be riding.

The cool night air swept around him, clinging to his skin, pulsating into his pores, and re-energizing his senses. His Dyna had never failed him before and it glided eagerly from street to street until he felt like he'd circled the entire landscape of Charming two times over. The haziness engulfing him in the clubhouse was long gone and a clear focus-something that felt almost like calm-spread through his mind. Breath came in and out more easily than before. He didn't want to think anymore. He didn't want to feel anymore. He just wanted to be present in the here and now.

But when his Dyna rested at the stoplights right in front of Lumpy's, he almost fell right off his bike. His eyes first landed on the lone black Trans Am parked off to the side and then, scanning through the windows, rested on Isabelle, who was sitting in a booth, hunched over something on the table. A grin tugged at his lips-he had a pretty good idea what she was doing all hunched over like that. Working, as she put it. Fascination didn't quite cover the emotion he felt whenever he watched her work. It wasn't too often that she would forego conversation at lunch in order to sketch something in her notebook, but when it happened, he just sat back and watched in amazement. The fluid lines she produced and the stark, almost luminous images flitting across the page was nothing short of extraordinary. The level of raw talent it took to do something like that was something he would never be able to wrap his head around. So, for lack of being able to do anything remotely helpful, he just shut up and let her work.

But tonight was a different story. Tonight they were technically supposed to be sleeping because they both had to work the morning shift at T-M the next day. He couldn't imagine she made it a regular habit of working at Lumpy's-especially since she'd basically been fired from there and especially since it was the middle of the night-so, something had to be up. And what kind of guy would he be if he didn't go in and at least have a cup of coffee with her?

He was still grinning when he parked his bike right next to her car. As the door chimed behind him, his eyes went right to the lone figure sitting a few booths away, lost in her own little world. A beat later, the noise seemed to shake her out of...wherever it was she went when she was working and she blinked in shock for a few seconds.

"What up, Iz," he called out to her as he approached her booth.

"What are you doing here?" she asked with a laugh, shaking her head at the circumstances.

"I could ask you the same question," he retorted as he hovered over her where she sat. He didn't want to just presume he could sit down; she seemed pretty settled here with her half-empty coffee cup, untouched piece of peanut butter pie, and her stuff spread out all over the table and he honestly didn't come in to bother her.

"Couldn't sleep," she shrugged easily. "I'm guessing you're in the same boat, huh?"

Jax just nodded, a touch of a smile crossing his lips. "Want some company?"

"Sure," she murmured softly, half-standing to clear some of her clutter from the table. As she grabbed her oversized purse from the table and set it over on her side, he slid in across from her.

"So," Isabelle started quietly. "Are you in the mood for some peanut butter pie? Once I got going here, I kinda forgot about it even though I am on my third cup of coffee."

He didn't need to be told twice and hastily reached for the plate. "Absolutely, Iz."

"Coffee?" She gestured towards the empty cup to his right. When he nodded, his mouth too full of peanut buttery goodness, she poured him a cup with a smirk.

"Do I want to know why you're out on the prowl tonight? Or...wait, if you just finished up with some random chick, I'm not sure I want to hear about it," she crinkled her nose a little as she spoke and if he didn't know her better, he would've thought her tone was a little harsh.

But since he did know her and already knew how she felt about his, um, activities, there wasn't much there to be offended by.

"I'm trying this whole bein' sober thing," he grinned back at her. "Shocking, right?"

"Who knew you'd grow up to be so responsible?" She shot back, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

"Gotta grow up sometime, I guess," he replied good-naturedly before taking a gulp from his coffee cup.

"Well," she smiled softly. "If it helps, I'm glad you're not face down in a gutter somewhere."

"I'd much rather be here with you, darlin'," he winked.

She just rolled her eyes at him and tossed an empty sugar packet at him. He gestured down to the open notebook to her right and restrained himself from peeking a look.

"Whatcha workin' on over there?"

She looked back at him sharply and then her expression shockingly went from surprised to confused to tired and finally rested on forlorn. He didn't have it in him to even begin to understand what any of that meant or what his words had to do with anything. It was nearly midnight after all and both of them really should be sleeping.

"Oh," she answered finally. "Nothing all that important really. I was trying to figure out some stuff but that didn't work out too well."

"Alright...so when do I get to commission something?"

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well," he shrugged as he shoveled another bite of pie into his mouth. "I figured you're gonna be rich and famous someday so I better get an Isabelle Martin original while I can still afford it."

"Aw," she called out in a sing-song voice. "You called me Isabelle."

"Don't get used to it," he wagged his fork at her.

"Okay," she leaned forward as she spoke. "So, say you were to actually commission something. What would you request?"

That one was easy.

"My bike. Definitely. I can already see it...I mean, you'll really do it, right?"

"Well, sure."

"Do I still have to pay you?" he murmured in a low voice.

"Hmm...pay for the coffee and get me another piece of pie and I think we're square."

"Done!" He thumped his fist on the table for good measure.

Isabelle just laughed with a wide grin on her face and for a moment, he felt frozen by how happy she looked in that instant. She looked absolutely beautiful. If he could just get a little of that, feel a little of what she was feeling right now, maybe he could get one step closer to actually feeling like a normal human being. But then again, every time he was with her, it was easy to forget all that other shit and just laugh and talk and, well, be normal.

"So," he cleared his throat. "What brings you here in the middle of the night other than the fact that you can't sleep?"

She was quiet for a moment and when her eyes flicked back to meet him, he felt his chest tighten at the pain in them. Ah, a feeling he knew all too well.

"I guess I just...well, I just really missed my mom tonight," she murmured, staring into her coffee cup.

He nodded. That was another feeling he knew all too well. Something told him there was a little more going on but didn't see the point in pushing her. He didn't want to overstep or make her any more upset than she already was but this-feeling the sting, the heart-wrenching loss of losing a parent-this was something he might actually be able to help her with.

"You know," he started cautiously. "It's still hard for me to walk past my dad's bike everyday at the clubhouse and not wonder where he'd be...where I'd be...if he were still alive and kicking. Sometimes, when I'm on my way to my dorm, I can almost see him in the shop, workin' on it or pickin' me up to take me for a ride...I guess it doesn't get any easier but it helps to remember those things, you know? To remember the little things, even if it sucks sometimes, because...I guess that's all you have left, you know?"

Her eyes glimmered with something he couldn't quite put his finger on and he briefly wondered if maybe he'd said too much or not enough. It was always difficult to tell with her-sometimes, he felt like he knew exactly what she was thinking and other times...

"That's funny," she shook her head with a sad smile. "Because sometimes when I walk past our kitchen counter I have these flashbacks of when I was five and I remember racing home everyday after kindergarten to watch Dirty Dancing...I know, great parenting, right?"

A grin tugged at his lips as he chuckled with her. It was good to hear her talk this way-the only time she'd really spoken of her mom was the night he'd completely lost his shit in front of her-and he knew, from firsthand experience, that she probably needed to talk more about her mom than she did.

"So this one day," she continued softly. "I must have done something really bad-I mean _really_ naughty-to make my mom this mad...I still have no idea what I did. Funny how that works, right? But I remember her being so mad she was just red all over-I mean furious with rage-and she takes my Dirty Dancing tape...you know the good ol' VHS ones? And she takes the tape, lifts it over her head all dramatic, and then smashes it into the counter right in front of me."

They were both practically shaking with laughter now.

"Oh, I cried and cried and cried. I couldn't believe she actually did it! And I wouldn't come out of my room for the rest of the night I was so mad at _her_. So then the next day, when I finally came down for breakfast, there was a brand new Dirty Dancing there waiting for me on the kitchen counter."

"Wow," he chuckled. "She must have felt pretty bad to get you another copy like that."

"Yeah," she nodded with a grin. "Well, of course, I had to promise never to do whatever it was I did again in order to get it and she promised never to smash my stuff again."

He wiped his eyes from laughing so hard and shook his head. "I never pegged you for such a problem child."

"What can I say?" she shrugged lightly. "I'm just full of surprises."

She didn't know the fucking half of it.

"So..." he racked his brain for something else to talk about, sensing the need for a change in topic. "Tomorrow night, huh?"

The grin slid off her face and he immediately knew he'd said the wrong thing.

"Yeah...tomorrow night. Can you promise me one thing though?" She pleaded quietly.

"What's that?"

"Can you please just _try_ to be nice tomorrow?"

He scoffed and rolled his eyes a little. "What makes you think I won't be nice?"

"Really?" She stared back at him pointedly. "Do I really need to explain it to you? Look, I would really, really appreciate it if you guys could all get along."

"Alright, alright," he conceded, throwing his hands up in the air. "Fine. But just because you asked so nicely, Iz. Don't think I'm doing it for that jackass what's-his-name."

"Nice, Jax," she snorted. "Real nice."

"What?"

She just waved a hand at him and poured a little more sugar into her coffee cup.

"So," he pressed on. "What do you have on the agenda for the rest of your night, huh?"

"Oh, I don't know. I'll probably just go home and have a movie marathon or something along those lines-that'll probably help me fall asleep."

His eyebrows shot up at this new piece of information-just another fascinating piece of the puzzle.

"Oh really? And what, exactly, does a movie marathon with you entail?"

"Probably Star Wars," she just shrugged. "I'm kinda in the mood for something that's gonna take me far, far away if you know what I mean."

"Seriously?" he shook his head in disbelief. "You like those movies?"

"Like them? Are you kidding? Who doesn't like them? I think I was Princess Leia for Halloween every year until I was like, fourteen."

He pointed to himself with a smirk. "You're lookin' at your Han Solo, darlin'. Well, actually, I switched between Han Solo and Indiana Jones but I loved playing with that toy gun more than anything."

"Yeah, I could see that," she grinned, splaying her hands out on the table in excitement. "I can see you already with the belt and those high boots...wow, I can't wait to drill your mom for those pictures tomorrow at work."

His mouth dropped open a little in shock. "You wouldn't."

"Wanna bet?"

"Shit...okay, okay, next. Favorite movie and...go."

Her eyes crinkled up in deep thought and he could practically see the wheels in her head turning.

"Hmmm...I don't think I can choose just one...I mean, there are just so many..."

"Okay, fine-top five...go."

"Nah," she shook her head fiercely. "I don't think I could even do that...but if it helps, I think I could watch any Quentin Tarantino movie any day, any time.

"So you're a bad motherfucker, then, huh?" He grinned widely, wiggling his eyebrows at her suggestively.

"You know it...but I think I'd rather have royale with cheese."

He barked out a laugh before shoveling in another huge forkful of pie into his mouth. "I think this pie might be better than that."

Isabelle's eyes lit up at the mention of her long-forgotten pie and she snatched up her unused fork and practically dove across the table to plough it into what was left of the pie. Still shaking his head, he motioned for the restaurant's lone waitress on duty and promptly ordered another slice and another pot of coffee, making good on his earlier promise to her.

"So, Quentin Tarantino, huh?" He continued as he poured them both another cup of coffee. "I think my personal favorite will always be Pulp Fiction no matter what else he does."

"I think it's kinda tied for me with Inglourious Basterds," she replied between mouthfuls.

He nodded appreciatively. "Yeah, I think that's a close second for me to be honest. But if I'm not in the mood for some Tarantino-I'm not gonna lie, I could totally watch Anchorman any day. I mean, whenever it's on TV, I just stop what I'm doing and I watch it-it doesn't matter what part is on."

"For me, it's Forrest Gump. I think I've even caught it right at the end, you know the part where Forrest is talking to Jenny's grave...gets me every time." She put a hand over her heart for extra emphasis and Jax found himself biting back a smile.

"How 'bout the Die Hard movies?" He threw out.

Her nose crinkled up a little and she frowned. "I've never seen them...can't exactly say I've had a burning desire to but..."

"Aw come on," he batted a hand out to her. "Those movies are fuckin' awesome."

"Doesn't Bruce Willis play a cop trying to catch all the bad guys?" Her head tilted to the side as she spoke.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I guess I never pegged you as someone who would get all hot and bothered over a cop movie."

His fork froze in mid-air as he tried to process whether or not she was messing with him. When her easy laughter rang in his ears, he was finally able to shake off how completely crazy it was that they were sitting here like this. Yet, here they were...sitting in a booth at midnight, drinking coffee, eating pie, and talking about movies. For a fleeting moment, he wondered what it would be like to go back to her house and have that movie marathon with her.

Thankfully, her phone buzzed in her purse and the spell was broken. She set her coffee cup down on the table and sheepishly held up a finger as her other hand dug for her phone. When she looked at the caller id, it was like her entire body froze over in less than a second. Everything about her was tense, from the rushed way she answered, to the way her slightly panicked eyes darted up to him for just a moment and then seemed to look anywhere but at him.

"Hello?" she answered. He watched her intently as she listened to whoever was on the phone and his eyes narrowed when he saw her bite down hard on her bottom lip.

"Sure..." she said into the phone. "Just give me a few minutes, alright? Stay there."

The second she tossed her phone back into her purse and smiled tightly as if to say everything was fine; he knew everything wasn't fine.

"I have to get going," Isabelle murmured softly as she rummaged around in her purse, producing her wallet and motioning for the bill.

"Hey," he interjected quickly, digging into his back pocket for some money. "Don't worry about it-I told ya I'd get the next pot and another slice of pie anyways."

"No, you don't have to do that, Jax...I was here first anyways," she glanced back up at him  
and he could almost see the agitation and anxiousness coming off of her in waves.

"You can get the next one-how 'bout that?" he offered, trying to be helpful but still feeling like he was failing miserably. It wasn't like he expected her to tell him what was going on-but it would be a hell of a lot easier if he knew.

She smiled tensely and then finally nodded. "Okay, thanks, Jax."

"Everything alright, Iz?"

The question hung in the air and she froze again at his words. He had to ask it. If something was going on and she needed help, he had to let her know that it was okay to tell him. Words weren't exactly his forte and while he knew there were probably a million better ways to say it, that was the best he could give her.

A moment later, he watched her shake her head and put on a brave face.

"Everything's fine, Jax. Everything's fine."

He knew what that really meant. It was written all over her face. He absolutely hated that word...fine. She wasn't fine and neither was he. And as she slid out of the booth with a murmured goodbye and thank you, he almost stopped her. He almost pulled her back so he could find out what the hell was really going on with her. But then again, if she wanted his help, wouldn't she have asked for it? She'd done it before...wouldn't she know she could do it again?

It wasn't until she'd pulled out of the parking lot that he finally finished his coffee and stood to leave, shaking off the uneasiness that threatened to propel him out of the restaurant and chase after her. Even as he swung his leg over his bike and started the engine, he couldn't help but wonder how in the hell Isabelle Martin had gotten so far under his skin.

* * *

**A/N-I hadn't planned on this chapter in my original outline for this story but it just sort of happened. I felt like they needed some time together away from the clubhouse and away from bars or anything like that. Just normal people at a diner having coffee and pie together...kinda sounds like a date, right? Haha. Anyways, because this chapter came so far out of left field for me, I think it's my favorite so far-it just sort of sums up everything that this story is really about. Two people who are lost, sort of fumbling through some serious problems, and come together when they need each other the most. The next chapter, however, will see a huge leap forward for those of you who are waiting patiently for Jax and Isabelle to get even closer.**

**I hope you guys liked it just as much as I enjoyed writing it! Let me know what you think!**


	8. Nightmare at the Spur

**A/N-I apologize for the crazy long wait! Real life just got in the way the last couple weeks...hope this chapter is worth the wait!**

* * *

Standing by the bar with her friends by her side and her boyfriend's arm around her waist, Isabelle should have been at ease. She should have been taking the shot Brandon handed her simply because it was a Friday night and because she wanted to have fun. Too bad she found herself tipping back the glass to ease her nerves.

It wasn't like anything had gone down. Yet. It was just the potential that set her on edge.

Jax and Brandon wisely kept their distance from each other, with each one on opposite sides of the somewhat large group that had assembled around the bar. Brandon's friends-and remnants of high school-kept to the right and Samcro kept to the left. With each second that ticked by, she was seriously regretting ever agreeing to this. Who in the hell thought this was a good idea?

Her eyes flicked to Becca, who was grinning at her like the cat that swallowed the fucking canary. Oh, right...go figure. At some point, though, the other shoe was going to drop. It had to happen sometime-Donna was warily eyeing Mark, Brandon's slightly overweight buddy who thought it was a good idea to jump the trashcan. Not to mention the fact that Opie and Juice looked bored out of their minds while Brandon and his friends laughed nonsensically over something she hadn't been paying attention to. Because he'd done a pretty good job keeping himself carefully out of sight, Jax was a bit of an enigma. And that was completely fine with her.

"Hey, babe!" Brandon practically yelled in her ear, despite the fact that he was standing right next to her. "Did you fuckin' see that? That was awesome!"

No, she didn't see it. She was too busy swallowing back a panic attack to give two shits about what was so fucking funny. But instead of snapping, she bit back her mounting annoyance and shook her head with a tight smile.

"No, I didn't." She managed to push out in reply.

Brandon slung his arm around her shoulders and drew her flush against him. "Don't worry about it, babe. It was so fuckin' amazing though. Mark almost made it all the way over and..."

At that point, she wearily tuned him out. It wasn't so much out of disinterest but rather self-preservation. Unfortunately, though, her eyes drifted over to her left and she caught Donna mirthlessly roll her eyes and Opie shake his head with an almost disgusted expression. This was not going well.

Of course, it didn't help that she flinched when Brandon's fingers rested dangerously close to the space where her shirt ended and her jeans began. Maybe she shouldn't have worn something that skimmed the edge between sexy and flirty...so much for trying to look nice if he was going to get all handsy in public like this. Luckily, Brandon didn't seem to notice her agitation and kept his fingers lazily splayed across her skin. The jury was still out on whether or not that was lucky. Probably not.

"Babe," Brandon whispered in her ear. "You alright?"

So scratch that about him not noticing.

"Everything's fine...why wouldn't it be?" She replied a little too quickly.

A quick look of recognition passed over him and she had a moment of panic. Any reaction-or overreaction-to her frustration was only going to make an already shitty situation worse.

"You sure?" Brandon murmured, his breath tickling her ear and reeking of alcohol.

Before she even had a chance to think about responding, he leaned lower to press a sloppy kiss on her cheek. It took all of her resolve not wipe it right off. She'd forgotten what he was like when he was well on his way to getting plastered. Many, many nights of high school nightmares past came flitting back to her and for a fleeting moment, she considered telling him that no, everything was not fine. She was close to freaking out-that's how fine she was.

So instead of doing what she wanted to do, she did what she should do and nodded into his shoulder, purposefully avoiding his eyes and keeping her chin down. When his arm just pulled her in tighter and his fingers sunk a little lower, she knew she was in the clear for now. Thankfully, a tug on the back of Brandon's collar suddenly held his rapt attention and she eased herself out from under his grasp.

Isabelle took a careful step back and threw a cautious glance to her left, only for her eyes to collide directly with the dark, near-expressionless eyes of Jax. From the short distance away, his normally sky-blue eyes took on an almost lethal, blackened glare. The sheer weight of it struck her frozen in place until she felt a hand gently shake her out of the trance.

"Hey, babe?" Again, he didn't wait for her to answer. "Adam just called and said some people are goin' over to Shark's right now. You ready to go soon?"

It took her a moment to process what he was asking her.

"What? Um..." she glanced quickly over to her left and found Becca narrowing her eyes at the back of Brandon's head. "What's wrong with staying here for awhile?"

Brandon just shrugged. "Everyone's goin' over to Shark's anyways-we usually can get a booth and a pool table all to ourselves. Besides, this place is gettin' a little crowded if you know what I mean..."

She knew exactly what he meant. Even though his reasons for wanting to leave weren't wholly unreasonable, that still didn't stop the uneasiness she felt at the prospect of leaving with him and leaving everyone to her left behind. Something told her it was time to finally listen to that intuition.

"Um...I think I might stay here for awhile...at least until everyone else wants to leave and then I'll come meet up with you."

The words hung in the air for a moment too long and then Brandon just shrugged again.

"Alright, cool. If that's what you wanna do...why don't you just give me a call when you leave here?"

"Okay...yeah."

He grinned down at her, having assessed the situation and found everything to be just fine. Then he leaned down and kissed her. But it wasn't a quick, see-ya-later-babe kiss. It was a hard, pressing, almost territorial kiss. Not rolling her eyes was a very difficult chore as he wrapped his arms around her in a goodbye hug and then headed for the door with his posse of annoying immaturity trailing behind him.

She didn't want to look to the left. She really didn't. But her eyes, as if they had a mind of their own, flicked there anyways and the expression in Jax's eyes had shifted from dark to menacing. Isabelle swallowed nervously and edged back to her seat by the bar, hoping no one noticed how close she was to high-tailing it to the bathroom. Becca was at her side in a matter of nanoseconds.

"Hey," she murmured lowly to her. "Brandon seriously just left? Is everything alright, Belle?"

Knee-jerk reaction-not to mention self-preservation-kicked in almost immediately.

"Yeah, all his friends just wanted to head somewhere else for awhile. I'll probably meet up with them later...you know, when you guys decide to head back to the clubhouse." She did her best to cement the facade, that there was nothing wrong with the fact that she was totally okay with her boyfriend leaving her and going to another bar to do God knows what with his friends. Yeah, that was totally normal.

Becca's eyes narrowed ever so slightly and then Donna was flanking her on the other side.

"I hate to say it," Donna muttered under her breath. "But I'm kinda glad those guys are gone-no offense, Isabelle. I'm not sure how much more of that shit I could take."

Isabelle just waved a hand in dismissal. "Don't worry about it. It's not a big deal-I'll meet up with him later."

"Okay," Donna replied, her voice hesitating a little with each syllable. "So...should we hit up the jukebox or something? I kinda feel like dancin'."

"Let's do it!" Becca called out over the escalating noise of the crowd and she grabbed for Donna and Isabelle's arms to drag them over there.

"Hey, just hold on," Isabelle grunted. "I'll be right over...I need another drink or something."

When she was finally had a little space to breathe, Isabelle waited a few beats to order so she could catch her breath. Almost grateful that there was no one on either side of her, she felt some of the tension gradually unwind. And then she felt an elbow gently nudge her in the arm. She didn't even need to turn to know who was behind it.

"So..."

Jax was leaning an elbow lazily on the bar counter, his lips twisting in that cocky, confident smirk she knew so well. And then a funny thing happened. Her heart fluttered, spiking with something edging on anxiousness, but, at the exact same time, a sense of calm-almost relief-rushed through her. How was it possible to be nervous and relaxed at the exact same time? She was pretty sure it wasn't physically possible, but yet...there it was. Rushing and twisting, bending and soothing all at the same time.

"So..." she prompted, playfully raising an eyebrow as she spoke. It was the only real defense mechanism she had left to play.

"Pretty boy's gone." Jax stated, his eyes sparking conspiratorially.

"Uh huh."

"And you're still here."

"Very good, Jax. I see you've been paying attention."

He grinned appreciatively with a nod of his head. "Thanks, Iz. I'm glad someone noticed I'm not a complete idiot-and no, you can't comment on that one. Anyways...where was I?" He tapped his chin in thought. "Oh right! What's-his-name is currently MIA. You're still here."

"Your point?"

He wasn't fazed by her testy tone. "How 'bout a drink, darlin', 'cuz you sure look like you could use one."

Jax didn't even wait for a response; instead, he waved the bartender over with one hand and dug into his back pocket with the other. When the bartender came when beckoned, Jax turned to her expectantly, gesturing towards the bar. She gave her order and then Jax held up two fingers to the bartender. When she allowed her eyes to flick back over to Jax, she grinned right back to him, the first genuine smile she'd given all night.

He just slung an arm easily over his shoulder, like he had been doing it for years and she practically shivered under his touch. There was seriously something wrong with the fact that her boyfriend-who definitely wasn't Jax-had just had his hands on her literally minutes ago and she'd flinched at his touch but yet she shivered when Jax just had his arm grazing her shoulders-again, not her boyfriend. Shivering and flinching were decidedly not in the same ballpark.

Their drinks arrived promptly-that kind of speedy service was one of the perks of being here with Samcro members-and thankfully, Jax's arm slipped down from her shoulders to take hold of his drink. Even though she was grateful to have some distance between them, a part of her still mourned losing the warmth of his bare arm against her skin.

Just as she was about to reach for her drink, her phone buzzed from deep within the folds of her purse. She dug for it with a frown-it was probably Brandon...either he was groveling or trying to get her to leave soon. Neither one seemed like an appealing choice to deal with at the moment. When an unknown number flashed across her screen, her frowned just deepened.

"Everything alright, Iz?" Jax's expression seemed to mirror hers when she glanced his way at the sound of his deep voice.

"Yeah...I think so. I just don't recognize this number is all..." she just shrugged as she hit the answer button.

"Hello?" she answered, acutely aware that Jax's attention rested firmly on her and her conversation.

"Is this Isabelle? Dave's daughter?" A vaguely familiar voice asked over the other line.

Her eyes instinctively closed briefly. "Yes, this is her."

"This is Jim down at The Lucky Spur. Yeah, uh, you gotta get down here and get your dad. He's passed out face-down in the men's bathroom right now and I'm havin' troubles gettin' him up and out of my bar."

"What?" She couldn't hide the turmoil in her voice. Getting a phone call saying her dad was at The Lucky Spur wasn't necessarily anything new-but getting a call from the bartender definitely was. A thousand possibilities-each of them equally horrific-flashed through in her mind in that instant and it didn't matter that Jax had tensed next to her.

"Look," Jim continued pointedly. "The only reason I haven't called the cops yet is because I know he's going through some shit but you gotta get him out of here. I'll give you fifteen minutes, alright?"

"Sure," she nodded to no one in particular. "Thank you so much for calling...I'll be right over."

Before she even had a chance to slide off the barstool, Jax's arm shot out to stop her, his fingers closing around her wrist.

"Hey," Jax's eyes brimmed with concern. "What's goin' on? And if you say everything's fine, I'm gonna fuckin' tear my hair out or somethin'..."

She wanted to laugh at that last part-how many times had she thought that exact same sentiment? But this was no laughing matter and the narrowed eyes and clenched jaw told her Jax wasn't about to just let it go. She was going to have to make a choice here and there wasn't any time to weigh options or consequences. Glancing up at Jax again, he was clearly on edge but it was out of concern for her-and that was enough to force her hand.

"It's my dad," she barely recognized the sound of her own voice. "That was the bartender at The Lucky Spur...he said I need to come pick up my dad."

Jax didn't flinch at that revelation; his forehead creased almost imperceptibly but that was the only moment that flickered across his face. Instead, he regarded her with a hard, intuitive look.

"Alright," he murmured hoarsely. "Let's go then."

* * *

When she started shaking her head, Jax, at first, couldn't comprehend the motion. It took him a moment to even realize she'd refused him...especially since he hadn't really asked her; he'd told her. And then he remembered that they were in a crowded bar with their friends. This wasn't an ideal time or place to have to deal with something like this...not like there would ever really be but still.

"Jax," she started, her voice shaking slightly. "You don't have to do that...I can handle it by myself."

The resolve and the steel behind her eyes told him that this wasn't the first time she'd gotten a call like this. Her mysterious phone call the night before had to be more of the same. He never should have let her walk out of Lumpy's last night-and he sure as hell wasn't about to make the same mistake twice. Everything snapped into place and that only propelled him to action.

"Maybe but that doesn't mean you should," he pointed out. "I'm not gonna take no for an answer and let you go over there by yourself. You don't know what you're walkin' into if the bartender had to call you."

He paused for a second to wait for her reaction. When her chin slightly dipped in a nod, he took that as a good sign.

"So here's what we're gonna do," he pressed on. "You're gonna go tell Becca that you're gonna go meet pretty boy and I'm gonna tell Ope I'm headin' back to the clubhouse. Then you're gonna get on the back of my bike-whether you like it or not-and we're goin' over to The Lucky Spur to pick up your dad. He's got his car over there, right?"

"Yeah," she nodded quietly.

"Okay, then we'll get him in his car, you'll drive it back to your house, and I'll follow you."

Before she could protest, Jax gingerly placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. All he needed was for her to relent just enough so he could get her out of here. The longer they waited, the longer it would take to figure out what the hell was going on with Isabelle's dad and how long she'd been suffering through it.

A beat later, Isabelle seemed to register what he wanted her to do and her head bounced up and down almost imperceptibly to affirm his plan. Whatever the reason she'd agreed so quickly-the crowd, the time constraints, or his instructions-he was grateful for the turnaround.

"Alright," he kept his hand on her shoulder just for good measure. "Go talk to Becca; I'll talk to Ope and I'll meet you outside by my bike, okay?"

After she nodded blankly and pushed her way into the crowd in search of Becca, his eyes carefully followed her until he was sure she was actually talking to Becca. Opie wasn't hard to find at the bar-the people here seemed to innately know to give their cuts some space-and Jax easily strided to the counter, wasting no time. It was a believable enough excuse anyways with little room for suspicion-it wasn't the first time Jax had called it a night early and he knew it wouldn't be the last so Opie just shrugged, slapping him on the shoulder to send him on his way.

As he waited by his bike, his finger twitched at his sides, practically begging for a cigarette but he knew that the second he light one up, Isabelle would catch him right in the act and that was the last fucking thing he needed right now. But fuck, a hit of nicotine would balance him out a little. He needed his head on straight...a million possibilities of what was waiting for them at The Lucky Spur were currently running on repeat in his head and that shit wasn't helping.

On cue, Isabelle pushed through the exit and the second her searching gaze found him waiting, she broke out into a jog to get herself there faster. Neither spoke as he hitched a leg over his bike and passed Isabelle his helmet. A moment later, he felt her warm hands ghost over his shoulders as she eased herself behind him. The irony wasn't lost on him that this was the first time he'd had a girl on the back of his bike since Tara-the only other girl who'd ever had the honor.

He didn't hold a lot of things sacred but his brothers and his bike were right on the top of that list. Letting a girl ride bitch on your bike signified that she meant something to you-a classification that croweaters and any other random chick never would qualify for. He'd relished every moment Tara spent behind him on his bike, proudly parading his old lady around town for all to see that he'd claimed her. But these circumstances with Isabelle were something different altogether. Sure, it was out of necessity but a part of him knew that the circumstances didn't necessarily trump what Isabelle was to him either. She wasn't a croweater; she was his friend...and she suddenly squeezed her arms around his stomach a little more tightly and he was now acutely aware-despite his best efforts-that her thighs were clenching against the back of his hips.

He blew out a breath as he turned a corner; The Lucky Spur was just down the street and he needed to get a handle on his shit. He shouldn't have spent the whole ride there convincing himself that Isabelle's arms wrapped around his waist didn't make him need to adjust his pants. Too bad they'd gotten so tight he was worried his hard-on would be visible from a mile away. The whole thing was just so fucked up it wasn't even funny-Isabelle probably spent the entire ride sick with worry and here he was thinking with his dick again. Luckily for him, Isabelle practically leapt off his bike the second he pulled into a parking space, giving him a quick opening to take of the situation down there.

She was already to the door when he jogged through the parking lot to catch up to her and he had to scramble to get a hold of her before she burst through the door.

"Hey, now," Jax murmured as he tugged on her arm to get her to face him. "You gotta stay here, Iz, alright? If shit gets bad, you gotta let me take care of this, okay?"

She nodded wordlessly to him, her eyes fixated on getting through that door so he hurriedly obliged her, pushing it open and letting her pass in front of him. The Lucky Spur wasn't exactly high on the list of places Samcro frequented and for good reason too. It wasn't necessarily the worst bar in Charming but it was definitely one of the grungiest, not to mention the second best place-next to The Hairy Dog-to buy any assortment of narcotics you could ask for. A junkie's playground and not somewhere he typically made a habit of even being in the same neighborhood in. The fact that Isabelle's dad seemed to be growing weeds under his ass here was particularly alarming. What did it say about a guy, who was supposed to be an upstanding, well-respected lawyer, that passed out face down drunk here if the Sons didn't even want to come within a mile of the place?

The bartender's expression shifted from relieved-most likely upon recognizing Isabelle-to nervous-most likely when he saw the Reaper cut walking in behind her.

"Bathroom's down the hall and to the right," the bartender gestured with his head towards the hallway.

Isabelle nodded robotically and then took off through the bar, weaving in and out around the stumbling patrons and beer-stained barstools. He scrambled after her, bumping into a few drunks on the way and nearly collided into her back when she skidded to complete stop at the bathroom's doorway.

Her shaky hands reached up to cover her mouth and her shoulders threatened to heave uncontrollably. On reflex, his own hands shot out to her shoulders to steady her, to comfort her but he had a feeling nothing was going to bring her much relief tonight. Because Isabelle was frozen in place at the cracked, greasy doorway, Jax gently stepped around her, keeping his hands on her shoulders for as long as possible to help her stay calm. When he got a clearer look at the scene inside the bathroom, it wasn't difficult to see what kept her rooted where she stood.

Jax could count on one hand the number of times he'd spoken to Samuel Martin. Each encounter was met with curt, almost cold indifference and Mr. Martin always had a tendency to make him feel like he was no better than the dirt on the bottom of his leather shoes. Always dressed in the finest linens, tailored to perfection, with a haughty stare underneath his clean-shaven features, Mr. Martin commanded both your respect and your attention. Seeing that same man lying face-down on a grimy, beer-stained bathroom floor with only half its tiles was not an easy sight to swallow. His once-crisp white shirt now clung to his chest, a sick brown pallor from the grease and dirt of the floor and his mouth lobbed open like it was barely on its hinges. In that moment a horrible thought struck Jax-was this what his family, his brothers, and his friends saw too? Did they have to see him like this when he sank below the surface? When he drank himself into an oblivion just to feel numb?

Careful not to startle him, Jax slowly knelt down to gain better access to Mr. Martin's shoulders and with both hands firmly clasped underneath his armpits, he heaved and pulled to drag Mr. Martin to his feet. The unbalanced weight almost toppled them both over but he got his bearings and shrugged down for a better grip, slowly starting to shuffle out of the bathroom in an awkward dance.

Isabelle remained rooted to the ground in front of him but the second he gained some ground, the wall around her crumbled and she sprung into action. She swung one of her father's limp arms around her shoulders, taking some of his weight onto herself, and together, they shuffled him out of the bathroom and into his car without a word to anyone still inside the bar.

As they situated her father inside the backseat of his car, Jax glanced over at Isabelle carefully. Her face was a blank mask-frighteningly expressionless and he felt his heart breaking a little more at the sight of it. She was so goddamn strong-so fucking resilient. How had he never seen this before? Why had he never stopped and seen her for everything that she was? How could he have been such a fucking coward and let her deal with this shit by herself last night?

When she shut the car door, he wanted to reach for her-to do something, anything. But he didn't know what he could possibly give her right now that would help. Nothing was going to make this better. Nothing was going to make this easier.

The drive to her house skidded by in a blur of darkness and shards of flashing lights. Somehow, they ended up in Isabelle's driveway and he wasted zero time, swiftly maneuvering his bike to park behind her. By the time they hoisted Isabelle's father into the house, it was nearing one in the morning and Jax was starting to feel like he'd ridden a hundred miles instead of two. Either way, as he helped Isabelle lift her dad's legs into his bed, he knew he wasn't going to leaving this house for awhile.

* * *

It wasn't until she closed the door, leaving her dad slumped over in his bed, that the tightness in Isabelle's throat began to feel like a desperate suffocation. Needing to put some distance between her and her dad's bedroom, she shuffled down the hall towards the staircase, her shoulders heaving with each step forward. Her eyes ghosted shut, unable to wipe the image of her dad lying in that bathroom out of her head. Helplessness rushed through her with such a terrible force it almost knocked her off her feet and Isabelle stumbled from the wave. Then the barriers holding her emotions at bay crashed down-there was no more holding back the terror, the nightmare that had been this night. And the worst part of all was she felt completely powerless. Utterly useless. There was nothing she could to help him but pick him up and carry him home. She couldn't even do that without needing help.

And now Jax knew everything-every shameful, embarrassing thing-and there was nothing she could do about that either. She didn't want this and she sure as hell didn't want to live like this. One traitorous tear slipped down her cheek and then there was no stopping it. Her hand flew to her mouth to muffle the sob that ricocheted off the walls.

Warm hands suddenly slipped over her shoulders, turning her around until she was enveloped in a pair of strong arms. She inhaled leather, grease, gasoline, and something that was just Jax and he squeezed his arms around her a little more tightly as one ringed hand worked its way in her hair with soothing strokes. With her head buried in his shoulder, Isabelle's hands wound themselves around his neck, clinging desperately for something, anything.

"Hey now," Jax murmured in her hair. "Everything's gonna be alright...you're okay, Iz...this will all be okay."

He gently lifted her head off of his shoulder and tilted it so she could see him. When he lightly brushed a stray tear from her cheek, it only made another slip down in its place.

"Why don't we head into the kitchen, get something to drink, and you tell me what's goin' on...alright?" His voice was soft and soothing, with a slight crack.

When they were sitting across from each other at the kitchen table with barely touched water glasses in front of them, Isabelle didn't know what to say. She knew what Jax wanted her to say...she just didn't know how to put it all in words. How could she possibly explain it to him if she didn't understand it herself?

"When did this start, Iz?" Jax's soft, almost hesitant voice floated across the table.

For a moment, she wondered if she would even have a voice to answer him. "Right after my mom..."

He nodded quickly, not needing her to elaborate, his finger running up and down on the glass in thought. "Has it always been this bad?"

"Not like this," she shook her head, biting down hard on her lip. "After the funeral, he was drunk for...I don't know, like a week straight. I told our family counselor and she just told me that it was a normal reaction to...something like that. But it just kept getting worse-like he added another night to get wasted every week until he didn't have any left."

Jax seemed to consider her words carefully and a few moments passed before she heard his voice again.

"And...shit, Iz, I don't know how to ask this without sounding like an asshole but...have you tried to talk to him about it? I mean-we both know this shit is more than just a reaction to your mom...he needs to be in rehab or something."

"I know, I know," she ran a hand over her face. "I know, Jax-I've tried to get him to go back to family counseling with me but the two times I got him to go, it ended with him screaming at both me and the counselor to stay the hell out of his life. I haven't...I haven't been able to get him to talk to me about it since then..."

He nodded again and blew out a deep breath. "And...does he call you for rides like this a lot? Was that what that was last night when you left Lumpy's?"

All Isabelle could do was just let her chin dip enough to give him his answer.

"Iz..." he exhaled, leaning back heavily in his chair. "You can't do this by yourself anymore, alright?" When she started to protest, he just held up a hand. "No, just listen to me, okay? I know you don't want to hear this but drinking like that, Iz, the kind that makes you black out-look, I know from experience that you do things you don't even realize you're doing because you're not really there. One of these nights, Iz...one of these nights he could take all that shit out on you and it's just you and him here, Iz. No one and nothing would stop him from doing something he wouldn't even know he was doin'."

It took everything in her power to strangle the sob in her throat at his words. They stung-it was like a slap in the face to hear.

"My dad wouldn't hurt me, Jax...I can see why-"

"Maybe not, Iz," he just shrugged. "But who's to say what people are capable of when they're that far gone. And when he gets like that...you gotta call the cops."

Her eyes widened and her head swiveled from side to side furiously. "No-Jax, I can't do that...he'll lose his job if he gets arrested."

"I don't-"

"If he loses his job, Jax-you don't understand...he's got nothing left." She couldn't budge on this one and he would just have to accept it for what it was-even though it was still hard to reconcile why any of this really mattered to him in the first place.

"Yeah," Jax muttered bitterly under his breath. "I guess you don't count, right? It doesn't matter that you're here dealin' with all his shit-you're just supposed to sit and take it?"

"Jax..." she trailed off. She didn't know how she was supposed to respond to that.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and swallowed quietly, his eyes locked almost sheepishly on the glass in his hand. "I'm sorry, Iz."

"It's alright, Jax," she sighed.

"How does he even still have a job?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "My guess is that he's doing a decent enough job keeping it out of work-I know he goes to work pretty hungover...I mean, he'd have to but he's a good lawyer...always has been, sober or otherwise, and I guess people can look past the other shit if you're getting the job done."

His eyebrows rose and then he blew out another weary breath...he looked exactly like she felt, tired, exhausted, and wanting to bang her head against a wall. After a moment, her mouth opened and the words just came tumbling out of her before she could stop them.

"Jax...I really appreciate you being here like this but..."

"Look," Jax sighed, tugging a hand through his overly-long hair. "You gotta understand that I can't let you keep pickin' him up and bringin' him home like this...especially if shit gets bad."

She bit down on her lip nervously, not sure what to do with that response. The resolve in his eyes, let alone the fire, was something she wasn't entirely used to seeing from him-at least, not since she-who-shall-not-be-named decided to take her indefinite leave of absence.

"I just..." she started quietly. "You don't have to do that. It's not your job to babysit me or-"

"Are you kiddin' me?" Jax shot back incredulously, his eyes widening. "Iz...shit, I can't fuckin' imagine having to deal with this kind of shit on a regular basis. I mean, I thought the clubhouse was bad but this...this is different. This is your family. This is your dad. And it's just you here dealin' with all of that shit. You're so fuckin' strong-you really are. And no-don't shake your damn head at me because it's fuckin' true."

"I think you're overestimating me just a little bit," Isabelle countered quietly.

"Nah," Jax shook his head dismissively. "You don't have a weak bone in your body, Iz. You're not runnin' from this shit, you know? You're here, you're takin' what you've been given, and you're just fuckin' dealing with it. But you shouldn't have to do this all by yourself. You've been doin' it for so long already...put some of it on me, Iz. You can't take it all on by yourself anymore...I'm not gonna let you."

Fresh tears sprung to her eyes and she swallowed hard as one slipped waywardly from her cheek.

"You can be pretty great when you want to be...you know that, right?" She laughed in spite of herself as she quickly brushed the tears away.

"Hey," he shrugged as that cocky grin she knew so well slipped across his lips. "I try. Anything for a good friend though, right?"

She nodded slowly, her eyes brimming again with new tears at his overwhelming words. This was the part of him that she wished more people could see-the part that was kind and good and empathetic.

"So, Iz," he was leaning forward now with his elbows resting on the table. "You gotta promise me that you won't take care of this by yourself anymore, okay? When you get a call like the one you got tonight-whether it's from your dad or someone else-you need to tell me and I'll come with you, alright? You just gotta trust me here."

There was no hesitation. No overanalyzing. No worry. She knew instinctively that he was someone she could count on, someone who wasn't about to let her down. The rationale might be a little murky but that didn't make it any less true. She trusted him. If she was being honest with herself, she'd probably even trust him with her life if it ever came down to it. So that was why she found herself nodding back to him, to agreeing to trust him, to letting him silently program his number in her phone because for the first time in too long, she knew she didn't have to worry anymore.

* * *

**A/N-Well, I hope you guys liked it. Thanks again to everyone who has reviewed/alerted/favorited this-I really appreciate it!**


	9. Old Habits Die Hard

The next morning found Isabelle completely exhausted. When Jax left her house, she'd paced around the living room for at least a good two hours before finally making an attempt to settle into bed. Sleep would not come for her no matter how hard she tried-so she'd pulled out her sketchbook and spent the better part of the night working until the early morning light peeked in through the blinds.

Even though she was highly caffeinated-three cups of coffee and counting-she still felt like a walking zombie. The second she walked into the office, Gemma narrowed her darkened eyes at her and Isabelle knew she was screwed.

"Well," Gemma started easily as she leaned back in her chair. "Late night, huh?"

"I just had some trouble sleeping," Isabelle sighed. She didn't need Gemma to think she was up late getting hammered but figured she knew the woman well enough to know Gemma wasn't going to accept that as a sufficient answer.

"Yeah, looks like it," Gemma huffed. "Look, we've got a full schedule today and I'm gonna need you at as close to 100 percent as you can get, alright?"

Isabelle nodded quickly and immediately set her purse down-which held the product of her near-sleepless night-in its usual spot, readying herself for work. When Gemma had first hired her, the plan was for Isabelle to eventually be able to handle the office on her, without Gemma's ever-watchful eyes, so Gemma could free up some time to help Luann Delaney over at Cara Cara. So far, Gemma had only left hours at a time and Isabelle got the feeling that everything, including today, was just one giant test. She guessed she'd better not fail today.

"Well," Gemma continued, staring out into the garage window as she spoke. "If it makes you feel any better, Isabelle, it looks like Jax is in the same boat as you today."

Isabelle's head shot up at the mention of Jax and it didn't take her eyes long to find him out in the garage, clad in his T-M work shirt and looking just as bleary-eyed and exhausted as she felt. When he caught her gaze, he grinned sheepishly and waved. Her heart leapt up into her throat at the simple gesture and she needed a moment to regain her bearings. It wasn't until she turned back towards her desk that Isabelle realized Gemma had observed the exchange with careful precision.

She decided it was best to ignore that and decided to busy herself with the stack of invoices on her desk, not on the fact that Gemma's eyes were still silently following her. The invoices-which her boss had so lovingly placed on her desk before her arrival-would definitely keep her busy until her lunch break. The better part of her night had been spent working on something Jax had asked for and she couldn't let herself chicken out. It was the least she could do.

Respite finally came when Gemma, satisfied with her performance, shooed her out of the office. As she shuffled towards the picnic table, she quickly realized that Jax was already waiting for her and she felt a flush of heat rush to her cheeks. This was so stupid...this anxiousness and nervousness was completely unnecessary. This was just Jax. He wasn't going to laugh at her or make fun of her-even though, in the past, she certainly wouldn't have put it past him-and all she needed to do was man up and pull the sketch out of her purse.

Simple as that.

Jax's head turned at the sound of her footsteps and an easy grin slid across his face.

"Yo Iz," he called over to her with a wave. "Get your ass over here. I'm starvin'!"

"What?" she laughed, swinging her leg over the bench as she spoke. "You think I brought you lunch or something? I'm not your mother, you know."

"And thank God for that," Jax muttered under his breath.

"That's not very nice, Jax," she chided. "Can you imagine what Gemma would do if she heard you say something like that? I think she'd have your balls in a vice faster than I could say hand over my Mountain Dew."

Jax's shoulders shook with laughter and he shook his head, his fingers shooting down to the paper bag resting on the picnic table. In two seconds flat, his turkey sandwich was out of the plastic wrap and en route to his hungry mouth.

"Geez," she murmured, eyebrows raised. "You know you didn't have to wait for me, right? I'm pretty sure I would've gotten over it."

"Nah," he replied between bites with a shrug. "You know I can't eat without ya, darlin'."

"God," Isabelle huffed playfully. "What was I thinking last night...making that present for you? I must have been out of my mind."

Jax's eyes widened, mouth still full of turkey sandwich. "You made me a present?"

Suddenly, any nervousness or apprehension she felt going into this just slipped away. These kinds of things were just easy with Jax and she should've known there was nothing to be scared of. After all, just the night before she'd told him she trusted him. That statement was truer than she was willing to admit and for some reason, she knew there should be some part of her that was scared by that-the fact that she trusted Jax Teller. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized it was one of the few things in her life she was absolutely certain of. She trusted him with her life. So why had it been so nerve-wracking to worry she couldn't trust him with this?

With a bright smile, she reached into her bag and handed over the folded piece of paper. "Yeah, ya jerk. I made you a present."

In a flash, the sandwich was left abandoned on the picnic table and he was hurriedly wiping his hands clean on his pants. His fingers nimbly unfolded the paper and it was then, as he stared silently at the sketch she'd made of his bike last night, that the nervousness swept back over her.

"I...um...I just wanted to thank you for last night. You really didn't have to do what you did and I know you said you wanted a sketch of your bike so..."

She didn't know what else was left to say and it definitely didn't help that he was just staring almost obsessively at the sketch in his hands.

"So um..." she tried again with the little courage she had left. "What do you think?"

Jax's head shot up at her words, his brow creased in confusion. "What do I think? Iz...this is amazing...I wish I'd paid attention more in English class because I have no idea how to describe how fucking cool this is."

"Oh," she bit her lip shyly, feeling another rush of heat flood to her cheeks.

"I mean," he went on, his eyes sparking with excitement. "You got everything perfect. Every line. Every fuckin' curve. Just beautiful, Iz. Beautiful."

With the way he was looking at her now, she sucked in a deep breath to regain her bearings. It was like he could see everything about her; everything that she'd never really tried to show anyone else and here it all was, on a piece of paper in his hand. He just got it. He got all of it. And it felt so good to be understood. To not have to explain away every single thing with him or make any excuses for how she spent her time.

"You know where this is goin'?" he was asking her now and he didn't give her a chance to answer. "It's goin' right next to my bed so I can see it when I roll my lazy ass out of bed every morning."

She laughed, biting her lip to keep from showing too much emotion. She didn't entirely know how to describe how she was feeling right now-and she'd been the one paying attention in English class.

"I'm glad you like it, Jax...I had to basically do it from memory so if I got anything a little off-"

"No," Jax cut in quickly. "It's perfect, Iz. You got everything exactly right-I told you already, it's fuckin' amazing."

"Okay, jeez. When you put it like that..."

Jax just shrugged and carefully folded the sketch back up, setting it gingerly next to his lunch bag. "You know, have you ever thought about going to some kind of art school or somethin'? I think those people would be kickin' down your door to get you to go to their school-give you a scholarship or some shit like that."

"I don't know about that," she bit her lip, unsure of what to do with the compliment. No one had ever said anything like that to her before and she knew it would take her awhile to recover from it. She was always been told that she wasn't good enough-not the other way around. "Besides, I think all the really good art schools are in New York anyways."

"Well," Jax waved a hand dismissively. "There's gotta be at least one good school somewhere here in Cali, right?"

She spun her empty Mountain Dew can in her hand and she knew that had to be true. It was just going to be a matter of mustering up the courage to research, let alone find the balls to apply. Could she really do that? Ever since she'd found out her mom was sick, she'd been searching for something...out of reach. And now, for whatever reason, she felt like she'd been thrust on the path to finding that something.

"Maybe I'll look into it," she stated finally.

Jax grinned widely back at her like he'd just won some sort of undeclared battle between them. "That's what I like to hear, Iz. Well, at least I can say I finally have an Isabelle Martin original when you get all filthy rich and famous and forget about all the little people you had to step on to..."

He trailed off when Brandon's truck pulled into T-M's parking lot, rap music blaring from the rolled down windows. While the appropriate reaction to seeing her boyfriend pull up unexpectedly at her work should've been somewhere in between surprise and happiness, she found herself closer to shuddering with annoyance. Then a glimmer of guilt popped right up next to it. None of this was really fair to Brandon...after all, he really hadn't done anything wrong and he certainly hadn't done anything to deserve the way she was feeling towards him right now.

She glanced quickly in Jax's general direction and almost smiled when she realized his entire body seemed coiled, ready to pounce on Brandon at a moment's notice. Jax's lips had curled back into a barely visible sneer and his shoulders rose tensely, like he was waiting for Brandon to take one wrong step. His hands had disappeared under the picnic table but Isabelle suspected he'd hid them there so she wouldn't see how tightly his fists were clenched.

"Hey, Isabelle!" Brandon's voice called out to her and she gingerly waved back as he broke out into a jog.

When he reached their table, he bent down and pressed a hard, possessive kiss on her lips. It felt like she'd just been fucking branded, right in front of Jax no less. There was no way she could allow herself to look at Jax. She didn't need to see the expression on his face.

"Hey, Teller," Brandon rasped out quickly, barely glancing Jax's way.

When Isabelle finally let her eyes find Jax sitting across from her, she had to bit her lip to keep herself from reacting. It was like the Jax she had been talking to only a few minutes before had vanished and the hard, impenetrable mask of cocky arrogance had slipped into place.

"Davis," Jax replied easily with a smirk and folded his arms across his chest.

"You mind if I have a minute with my girl here?"

Jax's eyes flicked to her for a moment before leveling his gaze back on Brandon. "For you, Davis, thirty seconds."

He didn't wait for Brandon to reply and instead, swung his legs over the side of the bench and stalked off towards the garage. Isabelle watched his just long enough to see him dig into his back pocket for a cigarette. With a heavy sigh, she turned back to find that Brandon had slid in across the table, taking Jax's place at their picnic table and her heart lurched violently in her chest.

"Hey, Isabelle, I'm sorry for showing up here like this-"

"I really wish you had called or something, Brandon," she cut in abruptly. "If I wasn't already on break, you could've gotten me in a lot of trouble with Gemma."

She wasn't entirely sure if that was true or not but Brandon needed to know that she wasn't exactly happy to see him right now.

"Okay, okay," he held his hands out in defense and then glanced over to the garage. She followed his gaze and nearly jumped in her seat when she realized Jax was standing at the edge of the garage's entrance, puffing away on his cigarette as he observed them with dark, hollow eyes. A moment later, he flicked the spent bud to the cement at his feet and then he was gone.

"Look, Isabelle," Brandon continued quietly. "I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am about last night...I shouldn't have left with the guys. I know I should've stayed with you...I knew I'd really fucked up when you didn't answer any of my calls and I just wanna make it up to you, okay?"

Her eyes shut briefly and she bit down hard on her bottom lip. She hadn't answered any of his calls last night because she'd been too busy taking care of her father to worry about what Brandon was doing or not doing. Besides, if she had answered, it wasn't like she would've explained where she was and why anyways. He never would've understood. And she had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn't have offered his continued assistance either...unlike Jax, who hadn't needed an explanation in order to leave with her. He just got it.

But it also wasn't fair to judge Brandon when she wasn't telling him the whole story. She hadn't really given him the chance to prove himself and here she was, comparing him to Jax, someone he couldn't be more different from. Another wave of guilt crashed against her and tears pricked at her eyes. He was trying to apologize for something he didn't do-he wasn't guilty of anything but wanting to hang out with his friends. The worst part was, she wasn't even upset that he'd left-if anything, she'd just felt relief when he was gone. And that just made her feel even more like an asshole.

Here he was, trying to fix things between them and she couldn't have cared less. She really was an asshole.

"Don't worry about it, Brandon," she replied with renewed determination.

"No," he shook his head. "It wasn't okay for me to just leave you like that. I didn't even think about how you would feel or..."

A smile tugged at her lips and she remembered why she'd talked herself into seeing again in the first place. He really was a good guy who cared about other people. And he was trying so damned hard to make things work between them this time around. Didn't he deserve a little of that in return? She'd barely given him a chance here and now it was her turn to make up the difference, to put a little effort into it.

"I know," she whispered, barely recognizing the sound of her own voice. "I appreciate you coming here just to say that...that really means a lot."

His entire face brightened at that new admission and she couldn't help but feel a stab of guilt.

"So..." he started hopefully. "Does that mean you're gonna let me make it up to you tonight?"

"Depends what you have in mind," she tossed back, trying to be playful but feeling like it came off as forced.

"Oh, you'll just have to wait and see." He reached across the table to play with her fingers and she smiled at the sweet gesture.

"Okay," she grinned back, resolving to prove to him tonight that she was going to put just as much effort into this relationship as he was. This time around, things could be different. She could be different, if she just gave it a chance.

* * *

It didn't help matters that the garage had been brimming with customers that afternoon and all Jax wanted to do was retreat to the clubhouse and down the first bottle of whiskey he could get his hands on. The worst part was, he'd thought he'd gotten past all this shit. But here his old habits were, rearing their ugly fucking heads when shit hit the fan.

The problem was he just couldn't put his finger on what had triggered it. Well, the second that asshole Davis showed up on T-M's lot, he'd felt his blood begin to simmer in his veins. Seeing that douche always garnered the same reaction from him though so that really was nothing new. He did, however, have a problem with Davis showing up out of the blue and ruining his lunch break.

When Davis finally left, Isabelle quietly returned to her post in the office without so much as a glance his way. The rest of his shift just seemed to drag by as he came up with excuse after excuse to avoid having to go within ten feet of the office, which was no easy task given that he was supposed to physically bring in the keys to let Isabelle know when he was finished with a customer. He didn't mean to intentionally avoid her...he just couldn't face her.

After her shift was over, Isabelle high-tailed it out of there as fast as she could. Not like he could really blame her, especially since she looked pretty cozy with her boyfriend during her break. They'd probably made all these elaborate plans for tonight and he was glad he hadn't been anywhere nearby to overhear. Shit...he really needed a fucking drink. Or five.

What the hell was wrong with him? He thought he'd gotten a handle on all of this shit and slowly but surely, he'd begun the cross over back into the land of the living. A relapse back down the rabbit hole wasn't going to convince Clay or anyone else in the club, for that matter, that he'd gotten all that shit behind him. Another run to Reno was scheduled soon and Clay had already informed him that he was up on the rotation. That was good for him-a way to show the club that he was committed and that he could handle his shit long enough to get the job done. A run was really just business as usual for the club and it was a place to start. All he needed to do right now was keep his head in the game and drinking himself unconscious was not the way to do it.

But by the time his shift was over and he was standing in front of the bar in the clubhouse, he couldn't stop his fingers for closing around the first bottle of Jack he could find. He was allowed to have a good time, wasn't he? This wasn't about numbing any sort of pain or taking his mind off of shit...this was about just letting loose. When he felt a pair of feminine hands wrap themselves around his neck, he closed his eyes and just let it happen.

So maybe it was a distraction. So fucking what?

But a few hours later, when the cloud cleared from his head and the blonde, who he hadn't cared enough about to even ask her name, wrapped an arm around his waist, slipping back into old habits felt like shit. It wasn't the relief he'd been looking for. If anything, feeling the nameless girl shift restlessly next to him just made him feel even emptier than he did before.

Thankfully, she seemed to realize that their time together-for what it was worth-was over and she silently tip-toed around the room to find her discarded clothes. He couldn't even really remember taking her clothes off in the first place...it was almost as if he'd completely shut his mind off the moment he'd allowed her to lead him back to his room. Everything had just gone blank and the Jack he'd forced himself to swallow down wasn't entirely to blame for that either. Turning off his mind, just letting this shit happen to him-the drinking and the pussy-it was all a dangerous path to tread down. An occasional slip here and there wouldn't matter too much in the grand scheme of things but that didn't make him feel any less like he'd failed somehow.

And when the blonde silently shut the door behind her, relief washed over him and it felt like the all the darkness had left the room with her. Air was coming in and out more easily now and the heavy weight on his chest evaporated into nothing. For a fleeting moment, he almost called out to her, not to invite her back to his bed, but...he just had a sudden urge to apologize. It wasn't like he'd intended for this to happen and it wasn't like she didn't know what she was in for the second she stepped foot in the clubhouse. Still, there was something about the whole thing that just made him feel...once again, he was completely at a loss for words. Shit, he really should've paid more attention in school-then he'd at least be able to communicate like a fucking normal human being.

Suddenly, he was swinging his legs over the edge of the bed like they had a mind of their own and his hands were in the back pocket of his jeans before he could stop himself. Isabelle's sketch of his bike was in between his fingertips just a moment later and he found himself tracing every line with pure fascination.

He was still kicking himself for not having the accurate words to describe what this sketch meant to him. Short of sounding like some sort of pathetic asshole, he'd almost told her that no one had ever given him a gift like this before. Sure, no one had ever given him a sketch before but it wasn't the same as getting a gift from Gemma for Christmas or his birthday. This was different. There was no obligations and no expectations behind it. She just did it...because. That was difficult to wrap his head around. In his world, you didn't give people presents just because and you definitely didn't give presents that that were so incredibly personal and intimate.

Maybe that was what set him so off-balance. The intimacy. The time she'd spent working on it-he could practically see her hunched over, biting her bottom lip in thought as her pencil flitted expertly around the page, bringing his bike to life like he was sitting right next to it. The skill and the expertise she'd exhibited and shared with him was something he couldn't quite reconcile.

Finally, he secured the sketch right where he'd told her he would-right next to his bed so he could see it every time he rolled his ass out of bed. Taking a slight step back, he surveyed the sketch and then quickly adjusted the tacks so the sketch hung a little bit straighter. Part of him hated to puncture it at all but he knew tape would potentially do more damage to it anyways and he wanted to preserve this for as long as possible.

A loud buzzing from across the room thrust him from his thoughts and he dove around the room to find his phone. One glance at the caller id and his insides tensed as his instincts kicked into high-gear.

He immediately punched the button to answer: "What's up, Iz?"

* * *

She didn't know how she'd let this happen. When Brandon had asked to come in, she'd known it was probably a bad idea but hadn't wanted to turn him away after the night he'd planned so meticulously for them. He really had pulled out all the stops to 'make it up to her' and that had just made her feel even more guilty. She was trying...she really was. She wanted him to know that this wasn't completely one-sided and that she wanted to be with him...of course, she didn't know who, exactly, she was trying to convince.

The night was just about as perfect as he could've made it: reservations at her favorite restaurant, drinks at her favorite bar...hell, he'd even brought her favorite flowers when he picked her up. He'd done everything he thought he was supposed to do. So why did she still feel like something was missing in this whole scenario?

The guilt followed her all the way up the stairs, when Brandon walked her up to her door and asked if he could come in. She couldn't say no, not after tonight, not after how hard he'd tried to make her happy. And so she didn't say no when he started to kiss her and when he led her upstairs to her bedroom. She knew it was exactly what he expected and part of her really wanted to make him happy too; the other part of her just shut off completely.

Even when he was on top of her, moving against her body, she could tell he was trying to make it good for her. He was touching her in all the places he remembered, the ones he used to know so well. Sure, it felt good for a few moments but then she just wanted it to be over.

And when he was lying beside her, telling her how glad he was they were back together, how he'd never gotten over her, all she could think about was how she needed to wash her sheets now.

Luckily, she'd been able to use her dad as an excuse-she knew he'd be calling her soon for a ride and she didn't want to have to explain that to Brandon anytime soon, if ever. All she'd had to say was that her dad was going to be home soon and Brandon had his clothes back on with lightning speed. She almost wanted to laugh-how many years later and Brandon was still afraid of her dad. It wasn't like there was much to be afraid of anymore with her dad anyways-he was usually too drunk or hungover to bother with anything going on in her life, let alone care she'd gotten back together with the boy he'd referred to as 'an idiot that would go nowhere'.

So when Brandon finally left, she found herself sitting restlessly at the kitchen table, waiting for her dad to call. She just needed something, anything, to take her mind off of how dirty she felt, how guilt had led her to make a such a terrible decision. Sure, she was no virgin, but she'd never had sex with anyone before and just felt...nothing. There had always been some sort of feelings attached to the act, even if it was just drunken lust. But here, with Brandon, she'd just been plotting ways to get him out of her house before he was even finished.

She had to end it. She had to put him out of his misery. It wasn't fair to him to string him along like this-even if he was getting sex out of it-and she couldn't keep up the charade that any of this mattered to her.

Rock bottom. That's what this was. And it felt like complete shit. Brandon had done nothing wrong-he'd done nothing but try to take care of her and be a good boyfriend and she felt like such an asshole for just going through the motions in return. She couldn't believe she'd allowed this to happen-since when did she let someone have sex with her because she felt she owed it to him, because she felt guilty? This wasn't her...this wasn't the kind of person she wanted to be. What the fuck was wrong with her?

Thankfully, she was torn from her misery when her phone rang. After initially panicking that Brandon was calling her, she quickly answered to talk to her dad, feeling even worse for being grateful her dad was calling for a ride home because he was too wasted to drive himself. And then her fingers rested over Jax's number and she almost willed herself to press dial. No...he was pissed at her anyways and even if he wasn't, he was probably too busy burying himself in Jack and some random girl to even care that she was calling. With the way he'd avoided her after lunch, she'd be surprised if he was even talking to her tomorrow.

Besides, it wasn't like he was serious about wanting to help her with her dad. Sure, he'd played the part of concerned friend the night before but that was probably just because nothing else was going on that night. As far as she knew, he didn't have some girl waiting for him back at the clubhouse and so he was just being a nice guy. That was all. He couldn't be serious about actually wanting to help her with her dad. She'd told him she trusted him but...when push came to shove, how could she really expect him to shoulder all of this?

When her father was settled soundlessly in his bed-he'd been surprisingly coherent this time-she found herself, once again, perched on the kitchen table. This feeling...feeling like she was stuck in reverse...it just was like when she first found out her mom wasn't going to get better. Everything felt backwards and that was the opposite of the direction she wanted her life to be headed in right now. With the way things were going, she'd probably be better off back in fucking Stanford. At least there, all her mistakes could largely go unnoticed in the crowd. In Charming, that wasn't an option-everyone knew everything about everyone in this town. That was one of the reasons why she'd wanted to leave in the first place.

This wasn't what she wanted. This wasn't how she wanted to be. Repeating the past wasn't going to help anything. It just was backwards...and she wanted to be moving forward. It was only when a tear slipped down her cheek that she realized she was crying. Even that wet shakiness involved with crying couldn't even bring her back from the brink. Wiping the tears away didn't help anything either...more just appeared in their place until she was hunched over on the kitchen table, sobbing into her hands.

And then finally, when all her energy was spent into the tears that dried on the tablecloth, she was digging her phone out of her purse. When her fingers rested on Jax's number for the second time that night, she had no idea what she was doing. If she didn't think he would answer before, why would he answer now? She'd have to explain what was going on and there was no way she was ever going to tell anyone about this. It was too fucking shameful-too embarrassing and Jax didn't need to know this.

Before she could stop herself, her fingers hit the send button and it was ringing. Panic shot up through her entire body and she scrambled to hit the end button before it was too late. And then she heard him answer: "What's up, Iz?"

She froze at his voice, sounding so foreign over the phone, but it wasn't just that. There was something else too-something that sounded a little like concern, maybe even worry. Even though knee-jerk reaction told her to immediately hang up, now that he was on the phone, she didn't know how to get herself out of this.

"Hey, Jax," she started shakily, praying he didn't catch the hitch in her voice from crying.

"Iz? Are you okay? What happened? What's wrong?"

So much for hiding her emotional turmoil. She'd given it away with just two words and that only served to make her start crying again.

"Are you cryin'?" Jax practically barked as she sniffed again. "Iz...you gotta tell me what's goin' on here..."

"I was out with Brandon," she started again, trying to get a hold of herself but failing miserably. What the hell was she doing?

"Did that asshole do somethin'?" Jax snarled. "I'll fuckin' kill the bastard if..."

"No!" she cut in quickly. "He didn't do anything...he's gone now. I just picked up my dad and-"

"Wait a second," Jax hissed. "You picked your dad up already? Why didn't you call me?"

"I don't know...I guess I didn't think you were really being serious last night." She didn't know what else to say.

He blew out a deep sigh into the phone and she realized, for the first time since he'd left with her the night before, that he'd actually meant what he said. If she'd called him earlier, he would've answered and he would've done whatever she needed. The truth of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks and she had to sit down from the impact. She'd grossly underestimated him and overestimated herself-and her decision-making skills certainly left something to be desired.

"I really wish you'd called me, Iz," Jax's voice rang out softly from the ear piece. "I would've met you wherever you needed to go."

"I know," she whispered hoarsely, desperately trying to keep another wave of tears at bay. "I'm sorry, Jax...next time...next time I'll call you, okay?"

"Iz, I'm not pissed at you or anything, alright? I just want you to...shit, I know what I'm tryin' to say here; I'm just not sure how to say it..."

Hearing his voice on the phone just made her wish he was there. His arms had felt so warm and strong around her last night and right about now, she would give anything to feel that again. Safe. That was what she needed. She didn't want to be alone right now...she didn't want to sit here at the kitchen table by herself and contemplate how quickly her life had run off the rails.

"What are you doing right now, Jax?" she asked quickly before she could talk herself out of it.

For a moment, there was nothing but dead silence from the other end.

"A whole lot of nothing," he replied finally after clearing his throat. "Why?"

"Do you wanna come over here? Watch a movie or something?"

He chuckled lightly. "Darlin', I thought you would never ask."

* * *

Jax settled back against the couch cushions as he waited for Isabelle to come back with some popcorn. When she'd answered the front door about five minutes ago, it had been difficult for him to decide where to lay his focus: on her tear-stained, obviously distraught face or on the tiny tank top and shorts she was wearing. He couldn't remember ever seeing so much of her smooth, creamy skin before and unfortunately, one part of his body was sorely overruling the other. Luckily for him, she'd ushered him into the living room like the good hostess she was and padded into the kitchen for popcorn and soda.

"The movie's in the Blu-ray player already," she called from the kitchen. "You can just start it up already."

There was something in her voice, something he couldn't quite put his finger on, that troubled him. Something had happened tonight with Davis. While it probably wasn't as bad as the conclusions he'd already jumped to, that didn't mean the fucker was completely off the hook either. All he knew was that she'd gone out with that asshole tonight and she'd called him crying. Someone needed to explain this to him or he'd be banging down Davis' door in the morning and that probably wouldn't end well for either of them.

Even when she sat down next to him, keeping a safe distance away from him on the couch, he could tell that something was just off with her. He'd felt there was something off about her ever since she'd started seeing Davis again but he'd just waved it off as wishful thinking on his part. Now, however, he was beginning to wonder if maybe there had been something to that initial intuition after all.

After a few minutes of previews, the opening credits of Die Hard started and he could barely contain his whoop of excitement-his existing concern almost all but momentarily forgotten.

"You know, Iz," he threw an arm over the top of couch so he could turn towards her a little more. "I had a feelin' you were gonna pick this one. It's like you read my mind, darlin'."

"Well," she shrugged with an easy grin before popping a piece of popcorn in her mouth. "I figured I needed to see for myself if it was any good or not and who better to watch it with, right?"

"Got that right, Iz," he grinned back.

As the movie carried on, he found himself paying less attention to what was happening on the screen and more attention to what was going on with Isabelle. She kept shifting anxiously next to him and the longer they say there together, the more he realized that no matter what she told him, everything was not, in fact, fine. He fucking hated that word. Besides, every time she moved, her shorts bunched up a little more by her hips. That was doing absolutely nothing for his concentration and he really, really didn't want to be _that_ guy. The guy that came over because his friend asked him to and just ended up eye-fucking said friend. That wasn't what this was about and his eyes searched anxiously for something, anything, to throw over her legs to cover her the fuck up.

His eyes widened when he realized his arm was resting over an afghan and he immediately pulled it down, unceremoniously slapping it down over her legs until the offending material was completely covered. Thank fucking god. Her smooth legs looked so soft and if he'd let himself fantasize about them any longer, he'd be imagining what it would be like to feel those same legs wrapped around his waist.

This wasn't helping him and it certainly wasn't helping him keep his head in the game here. What he needed to do was get her talking...but how exactly to go about making that happen was still a mystery.

"Hey, Jax...can I ask you a question?"

Her voice floated out to him and effectively thrust him out of his thoughts. When he shifted his body so he could face her, he nearly had a heart attack at the sight. She looked like she was ready to completely crumble in his lap and not in a good way. Her eyes were red, brimming with fresh tears and it took everything in his power to keep his hands to himself right then. He'd promised himself he wouldn't touch her until she asked, until he knew what happened tonight, and he would never forgive himself if he couldn't keep that promise.

"Sure, Iz...you can ask me anything." His hoarse voice felt scratchy and foreign in his throat.

"How do you do it? I mean...how do you sleep with so many women and just...feel nothing for them? How do you make it look so easy?"

Shit. That was not what he was expecting. Why was this suddenly about him? Where she was going with this? What the hell was he supposed to do? He was treading some seriously uncharted territory here and he didn't know the first thing about any of this shit.

"What makes you think it's easy?" He replied finally.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Because you seem to do it a lot...I don't mean to be rude or anything. It's just that...I wish there was a way I could be like that too. To just be able to turn it off and not feel like complete shit afterwards."

His eyes narrowed at her words but he knew he couldn't push her too hard. If he did, she could shut down completely on him and then he'd never get the full story.

"What do you mean?" That seemed like as good a response as any.

She eyed him carefully, like she was weighing whether or not she could trust him with whatever she wanted to say. All he could do was pray she judged him and found him worthy. How was he supposed to help her, to be a good fucking friend, if she didn't trust him?

"I think I need to break up with Brandon," she whispered.

"Okay," he exhaled with relief-that wasn't what he'd expected to hear, but at least she was talking. "So...that's a good thing, right?"

"I just feel horrible," she sniffed, wiping a fresh tear from her cheek and he bit his lip at the sight. Seeing her cry was probably the worst thing he'd ever seen-and he'd seen an awful lot of shit in his life.

"Hey now," he reached out and mindlessly brushed a stray strand of hair away from her eyes. "You haven't done anything wrong...it's not your fault if shit just isn't workin' out with him. You're perfectly entitled to do whatever the fuck makes you happy, you know?"

She chuckled a little at that and he grinned briefly at the respite in her mood. When he wiped away another tear from her cheek, he felt her shiver under his touch and then couldn't stop himself from drawing his arm around her shoulders to nestle her onto his shoulder.

"Tell me what's goin' on, Iz," he murmured gently into her hair. "I can't help you if I don't know what's goin' on."

She curled her legs underneath her and leaned all her weight into him like she was clinging to him for dear life. Shit, maybe she actually was-and he hated himself right now for enjoying the way her body fit with his, the way her cheek seemed to hit at just the right spot on his shoulder...

"I did something I shouldn't have..." she whispered into his shoulder. "I feel like such an asshole for doing it and I never should've let it go that far."

He gently lifted her head away from his shoulder so he could see her. "What do you mean?"

"I..." Isabelle managed to choke out before burying her head into his shoulder again as a wave of sobs racked her entire body. He held her quietly as she cried softly, deciding it was best to just let her get it all out now. Maybe then, when it was all over with, maybe then she could finally tell him what was happening here.

Then he heard her hoarse voice again: "I slept with him tonight."

He blew out a breath to keep himself from verbally reacting. He'd suspected as much when he came over here tonight but from what she'd just told him, it sounded like it was closer on the consensual side of things, unlike what his instincts initially told him. Still...he hadn't prepared himself for how much actually hearing the words would affect him. It felt like the wind had momentarily been knocked out of him with no telling how he was going to get it back.

"Okay," he whispered into her hair. That was the best he could come up with and even that had been an immense challenge.

"I don't know why I did it..." she laughed awkwardly and pushed some hair off of her face as she spoke. "I guess I felt guilty for letting him try so hard."

"Try hard at what?"

"Being my boyfriend," she shrugged a little too easily. "I don't know why I started seeing him again in the first place...it was just..."

"Old habits die hard, huh?" he offered.

"Yeah," she nodded against his chest. "Something like that. He was just being so nice and he was putting so much effort into making it work this time around...I guess I thought maybe that was enough for the both of us. But after...I just felt like-I don't know-I just felt dirty...like I needed to take a shower or something, you know? It just like I was going backwards...and that's not what I want to do."

He took a deep breath and knew he was completely out of his element here. Then she was forcing another laugh again and abruptly pulled herself out of his arms, wiping her face as she curled her legs underneath but still leaning against his arm. He didn't realize how grateful he was for that warmth until it was nearly gone.

"Look, Jax," she started again, more firmly this time. "I'm not a..."

"A prude?" he offered lightly and she slapped him playfully on the arm.

"Fine...I'm not a prude or anything, okay? It's just that-well, I can't do the no strings attached thing, you know what I mean? Don't laugh at me but I guess I'm not the kind of girl that can just hook-up with someone and be okay with it not meaning anything...I need the emotional attachment, you know? And it wasn't there with Brandon tonight and I did it anyways because...I'm not really sure why. And I feel like shit now for doing it."

He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer to him. "I get it, Iz. There's no shame in that-in fact, there's absolutely zero shame in that. You haven't done anything wrong here, Iz-it happens all the time and it doesn't make you any less of a good person. You know that, right?"

It seemed to take her a little too long to find the words to respond. "Then why do I feel so awful right now, Jax?"

He smiled gently and fought the urge to press his lips into her hair. "Because you're a good person, Iz. That's why it feels bad now. But I can tell you this much-I wish I had half the conscience that you do...I'm not kiddin'. I think you might be on to somethin' about sex havin' to mean somethin' with somebody you actually care about. It just feels a little empty when it's not...trust me, I know exactly how you feel."

"Then why do we do it?"

"Well," he grinned. "I can tell you from experience that I think I kept hopin' it would make me feel number than alcohol ever could. Maybe not so much physically but emotionally...if that makes any sense. And if it makes you feel any better, it used to be pretty fucking easy for me but...not so much anymore."

"No?"

"I guess I just realized that it's not fixing any of my shit any faster. I'm still pretty fucked in the head and all the mountains of Jack and pussy in the world aren't gonna make that better any time soon."

She shook her head softly and wrapped an arm around his neck. He almost shivered at the intimacy of feeling her skin against his.

"You're not fucked in the head, Jax," she whispered. "No more than me or anyone else."

"Thanks, doc."

"No problem."

When she laid her head on his shoulder again, he quickly shifted his focus back on the TV to keep his fingers from exploring the bare skin in between her shorts and her tank top.

"You feelin' better?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," she nodded. "I'm sorry you had to deal with all this...I feel I've been a complete trainwreck the last couple of times I've seen you and I'm sure this wasn't exactly on your list of things to do tonight."

"Hey," he insisted. "I'm glad you called, Iz. And you need to promise me that you'll call me the next time you need something-if it's your dad, if you need to talk, you gotta call me, alright?"

This time, there was no hesitation, no doubt, and no regret in her eyes as she nodded back to him. He just pulled her closer against his chest, knowing that he wouldn't always get to feel this, that he wouldn't always get to spend his nights on a couch, watching a movie with a beautiful girl in his arms. She felt too good in his arms and her skin was so fucking soft and smooth. There was no use in spending anymore time thinking about it. In the morning, she would just be his friend again...but for tonight, maybe he could get away with letting himself wonder what it would be like if he was lucky enough to have this all the time.

"Everything's gonna be alright now, Iz," he murmured into her hair. "Everything will work itself out and you'll be exactly where you're supposed to be, doing exactly what you should be doing. You can't beat yourself up over things you can't change."

He only wished he could say the same thing for himself.

* * *

**A/N-So, I hope no one it upset with Isabelle (or me) for that 'situation' with Brandon. I think it was the push she needed to realize that things were never going to be the way she wanted them to be with him. Hopefully, I was able to get into both Isabelle and Jax's heads enough to get that across-I think Jax did some serious growing up in this chapter too, if not getting one step closer to realizing what/who he really needs in his life ;). **

**Anyways, I hope you liked it. Please let me know what you think! And thanks to everyone who's reviewed/alerted/favorited!**


	10. Groundwork

It didn't matter that she'd done everything in her power to make this as easy on Brandon as possible. She'd waited until they were alone, until they could really sit down and have a real conversation with him. All she wanted to do at this point was to let him down as gently, as painlessly as possible. Too bad he wasn't going down without a fight and was doing everything in his power to make this as difficult on her as possible.

"So...what?" Brandon was staring at her incredulously like he hadn't heard her literally just say they needed to be over.

"What do you mean?"

Maybe if she clarified one more time that this was permanent and that no, it wasn't him...maybe he would get it this time.

Brandon just shrugged his shoulders with a frown. "I mean...if you need some time, I get it, okay? I just don't see why it needs to be like this, Isabelle. We just started seeing each other again...I mean, this is our chance to get things right this time around...don't you want things to be just like they used to be?"

Jesus Christ, where was the nearest wall? She needed to bang her head into something hard, preferably concrete.

"That's what I've been trying to say," she couldn't stop herself from gritting her teeth. "Everything is exactly like it used to be. That's not what I want right now."

Shit, why did she have to spit out 'right now'? He was going to read too much into that and pretty soon, this was going to be like pulling teeth to get him to listen to reason.

"Well, you just need some time, right?" He asked hopefully, shifting from one side to the other.

"No," she shook her head gently. "That's not what I meant."

"Okay..."

"This," she gestured between them, "is exactly the same as it used to be...at least, I guess it is on your end but, this isn't what I want anymore. Things are different for me now...I mean, we're 21 and I don't want to be doing the exact same things I did in high school with the exact same people. Please don't take that the wrong way...this really has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me."

Brandon's chocolate eyes darkened as he seemed to finally absorb what she was telling him. Any hope of a reconciliation seemed to dissipate in his expression and a pang of guilt assaulted her in that moment. This was what she'd wanted since the night they'd slept together but now that he was finally listening to her, the aftermath wasn't going to be pretty.

"Is this about Teller?"

She blinked back in shock, momentarily unable to find the words to respond.

"What?"

Brandon licked his lips before biting down reproachfully. "I guess that means you think I'm an idiot then."

Shaking her head in disbelief, she fleetingly wondered if this was some sort of twisted joke. "I honestly have no idea what you're talking about."

"Right," he folded his arms across his chest and the air between shifted. "You think I haven't seen the way he looks at you?"

"Jax and I are friends."

Brandon laughed bitterly and it was difficult to suppress the cold shiver that ran down her spine. "My ass you're friends."

"Brandon, this has nothing to do with Jax. This is about us not working. I've tried to be nice about this because, honestly, this isn't really about you, but you don't have to be such a jerk about it." The minute the words came flying out, she wanted to clamp her hand around her mouth. She knew him well enough to know that that was not going to go over well.

"I'm the jerk? I'm the asshole?" His face had turned a frightening shade of crimson. "Why did you even start this shit with me again? Why the fuck did you go through with it?"

That was as good a question as any. She deserved that. She really did. What she did not deserve, however, was being spoken to like she was some sort of goddamn sinister, conniving bitch. So much for trying to end things quietly and respectfully.

"How the hell was I supposed to know I would end up feeling this way? I have nothing but good memories of us together when we were in high school but you know what? We're not in high school anymore, Brandon, and it's time to grow the fuck up...that goes for both of us."

"Oh right," Brandon threw his hands up in the air. "The way I see it, you've just traded one for the other here, Isabelle. You think I'm just doing the same shit I was in high school with the same people? What about Teller, huh? This is complete bullshit; you know that, right? Just one fucking excuse after the other..."

"I told you before-this has nothing to do with Jax or anyone else," Isabelle clamped her teeth down on her bottom lip in unbridled frustration. This whole thing had just escalated out of her control and now she was done trying to play nice. She needed this to be over. Now.

"So this is it, then? This is how you wanna end it, Isabelle?"

She folded her arms across her chest and refused to budge. "Yeah. It is. I think you should leave now, Brandon."

"What a fucking waste of time this was," he spat at her as he shoved past her and stalked towards his car.

It wasn't until that stupid, pretentious, asshole F-150 was all the way down the street that she felt she could finally exhale. An insurmountable weight had just been miraculously lifted from her shoulders and the relief was indescribable. Finally, moving forward didn't seem so far out of reach. Maybe this was the push she'd needed to snap the hell out of it. Maybe now she could finally figure out a way to fill the void that had only deepened since her mom died.

That final thought propelled back into the house and practically sprinting up the stairs. Having the whole house to herself until whenever her dad decided to call for a ride, she would have more than enough to do some research and figure out where the hell she was going from here. It was time to finally make a grab for the reins and put herself firmly in the driver's seat.

After an hour of scouring her Google search for art schools in California, she had a solid list of four programs that seemed to be everything she'd be looking for. Each one had similar course requirements but there were two in particular that caught her eye: the California Institute of the Arts and the San Francisco Art Institute. Stanford, of course, had something to offer in the way of fine arts but she couldn't bring herself to even consider it a possibility. If getting back together with Brandon was a step backwards, going back to Stanford would jumping backwards a mile.

The program at the California Institute of the Arts, or CalArts, as the website called it, had the best reputation in terms of productivity and quality. It also had the advantage of getting some funding from Disney, which helped make the program the more nationally recognized of the two. The program in San Francisco honestly didn't look that different from the one at CalArts; in fact, from what she could tell, it seemed like she'd have more control over developing her own coursework, which certainly had its advantages. The biggest factor that stuck out to her, though, was location. CalArts was in Los Angeles, which would definitely be cool and potentially be the change she was looking for but...it was also almost five hours away from Charming. San Francisco was less than an hour away and she could probably commute if she really wanted to.

The only thing she could really do was start filling out an application for both. All she could do was try, right? She probably wouldn't get into either anyways...she probably needed some sort of professional portfolio and she certainly didn't have anything like that. But, if she wanted to potentially get accepted second semester, she couldn't waste much time.

After about an hour of filling out over fifteen pages of applications, writing a personal statement that didn't sound too pathetic-how did one explain a semester-long break from Stanford anyways?-and somehow keeping all the details straight, she needed a break. And a drink.

She leaned back stiffly in the wooden chair and stretched her arms over her head, her eyes compulsively resting on her phone. Without even blinking, she snatched it off the computer desk and scrolled through her contacts until she found Jax's number. There wasn't any further hesitation as her fingers flew feverishly across the keys to stomp out a text. Right about now, there was only one person she wanted to talk to.

_Guess what I'm doin right now_...she sent to him.

A few moments later, her phone vibrated with his response and she bit back the wide smile that slipped across her face.

_What's that Iz?_

_Applying for art schools._

Less than a second later, his response flashed across the screen and she laughed out loud.

_No shit! Thats fuckin awesome Iz!_

_I found 2 that look pretty amazing so I'm doin it._

_What do u have to lose rite?_

She smiled at his response...it was like he could read her mind.

_That's exactly what I was thinkin._

_Ur applyin too the best 1s in cali rite?_

She wasn't sure what she was smiling at now...his reply or his grammar. He really wasn't kidding about not paying attention in English class.

_Yep, not sure which one is the right one tho._

_U'll figure it out Iz._

_Thanks, Jax._

_Anytime Iz. C u tomorrow._

_Bye_.

Still biting her lip, she set her phone back down on the desk and got back to work with a small smile. That was all the motivation she needed.

* * *

Clay hammered the gavel with swift precision, calling church to begin. All the deep, gruff voices immediately hushed at the sound and Jax settled back into his chair next to Opie. In the three years he'd been able to sit at the Redwood, it still felt a little surreal to really be here. Since he could walk, this had been all he'd ever wanted: a cut, a bike, and a seat at this table. No matter what other shit was going down, this...this was home.

"Alright," Clay began. "We got a few items on the agenda that need dealin' with. First things first, got the call from Alvarez and the Mayans are gonna move forward with patchin' over the Calveras. He wants to give them a little test run, if you will, to make sure Salazar and his gang will perform up to par. We got this run coming up and Alvarez thinks this would be a good opportunity-Salazar and his boys make the exchange with us, everything's good, and they patch in the Calveras."

A low murmur cascaded around the table as that marinated and it was easy to see that the club might have a divided vote on this one.

"So...what?" Piney huffed from his end of the table. "We just let ourselves be guinea pigs for these assholes? If the Calveras are as untested as Alvarez makes it sound, why the hell are we responsible for testing the new merchandise?"

"He's got a point," Opie chimed in. "I know it's just a run but there's a helluva lot that could go wrong."

Jax chewed on his bottom lip in thought and flicked his cigarette in the ashtray next to him. "Gotta keep the Mayans happy though, brother. If this is something they need to stay happy, then maybe we need to give it to them. Besides, things work out with the Calveras, we stand to benefit from that patch over too-more muscle for the Mayans means more muscle for us. Everybody wins."

The impressed expressions on Bobby and Clay's faces weren't lost on him and his instincts screamed back at him that this was a golden opportunity to prove himself. It wasn't a secret that his motivation and his dedication had been called into question enough times in the last few months to make him squirm from the pressure. Here was a chance to show any naysayers he was all in when it came to the club. At this point, all this shit with the Mayans and their potential patch over was really a blessing in disguise for him-even if the Calveras did prove to be a thorn in the club's side.

He was smart enough to take care of this. He had to be.

"Anybody else got somethin' to say?" Clay motioned to the table with his cigar.

"I think it would be a good show of faith on our part," Tig shrugged. "This run should be a piece of cake...same old, same old."

Chibs nodded emphatically from his side of the table. "If the Calveras somehow fuck this up, it's better Alvarez and his boys know now rather than later."

"Well," Jax started again, seizing the opportunity to have the last word. "As far as I know, we're not gonna talk the Mayans outta this patch over-even if we wanted to. And we kick up some shit with the Mayans by pissin' them off with this...could attract some unwanted attention. That's not somethin' we need-whatever keeps the ATF outta Charming is what we need to do."

"I agree," Clay nodded as he clamped his teeth down on his cigar. He paused for a few short moments to gauge the mood of the table. "Vote?"

After the nods signaled everyone was ready, the votes went around, with all swayed but Piney, which wasn't much of a shocker. It was a little bit of validation Jax needed-to know that his opinion was worth something at the Redwood, to know that when he spoke, his brothers would actually listen.

The plans were simple enough: the Mayans would route the shipment to a specific pickup point for the Calveras and they would make the exchange with Samcro. They really couldn't make it any simpler for Salazar and his gang...now it was just a matter of seeing this thing through to the end.

As soon as church adjourned, a quick glance at his phone told him that if he hurried, he could still meet Isabelle at their picnic table for lunch. Even though it was his day off, he was here and...it felt a little weird to eat lunch without her now. The few times that had happened during the week, he almost didn't know what to do with himself. The last time they'd worked separate shifts, he'd spent more time glancing around for her-even though he knew she wasn't working-than actually eating his lunch. Besides, he was chomping at the bit to hear all the details about these applications she'd filled out last night. It didn't matter that he already knew she and Becca were coming out with them tonight...why not just hear about everything now?

Frowning when he didn't see her at their picnic table right away, he turned on his heel and headed for the office, trying to shake the feeling that something was wrong. Hell, it wasn't like he was her baby-sitter...and she didn't necessarily need anyone keeping tabs on her either. Still, it was difficult to keep himself from sprinting into the office to make sure she was there and that everything was normal. He nudged the door open with an elbow and felt his lips tugging upwards when he saw Gemma and Isabelle huddled up together by the printer.

"I was sure if we just hit this button, the damn thing would work but..." Gemma trailed off as her eyes flew up to him. "Hey, baby...church just get out?"

"Yeah, just a minute ago," Jax tilted his chin towards the printer as he spoke. "Whatcha ladies doin' over there?"

"Well," Gemma jutted a hand on her hip. "We're trying to scan some of Isabelle's sketches but...I don't know if our wireless is down or what, but neither of us can get the damn thing to actually work."

Jax shifted his attention to the other beautiful woman in the room and cocked a playful eyebrow at her-quickly pushing away the way his heartbeat spiked at her shy smile.

"Scannin' sketches now, Iz?"

"I need to put a digital portfolio together and Gemma said I could use the scanner," she just shrugged.

He nodded slowly, painfully aware that Gemma was currently watching them both with darting, curious eyes. It took a deep breath and a loud exhale for him to realize that Isabelle was watching him now too. At least she was still smiling at him.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to say something, anything to break this awkward spell, Gemma cocked a hand on her hip and her lips twitched upwards.

"Well," Gemma started softly. "I suppose I should go find Juice-see if he can fix the scanner. I'll leave you two kids alone..."

Thankfully, she didn't linger too long and was out the door a half a second later. He wasn't sure he could take her prying, ever-watchful gaze right now. With Isabelle in the room...he didn't know what it was. He tended to lose focus on anything but her and the last thing he needed right now was for Gemma to ask him some obsolete, mindless question that he wouldn't be able to answer.

"So..." Isabelle started slowly, her eyes sparkling like a deep ocean in the sunlight.

"So...I wanna hear all about those applications. You take your lunch break yet?"

"No," she smiled and gestured with her head towards the door. "Let's go, then."

When they were finally sitting at their picnic table, Jax felt like he could finally breathe. And focus. Sometimes, he wasn't sure if it was just her presence that calmed him or if it was all in his head. Either way, all he knew was that he was starting to need these quiet moments with her like he needed air and he had no idea what to do with that.

"So, you're making a digital portfolio," he prompted for her as she unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite.

"Yeah," she nodded in between bites. "All the websites I looked at last night said you need that to at least be considered. It just sucks though...I mean, I don't have any letters of recommendation, no transcripts that really matter, nothing. I don't know if this portfolio is going to be enough."

"It will," he nodded emphatically to her. "Maybe it's better this way, ya know?"

"What do you mean?" she frowned.

He just shrugged and leaned over to grab some of her Gardhetto's. "This way you can just let your work speak for itself. It's enough, Iz, it really is."

When she bit her lip, her head leaning downward, he felt his heart lurch in his chest and he wondered what he'd done, what he'd said.

"Thanks, Jax," she murmured softly, still unable to meet his eyes.

Something tugged at the edges of his heart, making it twist and compress deep in his chest. He wondered fleetingly if this feeling would only intensify when she finally brought her eyes back up to his...he didn't really need to think about it. The answer was painfully obvious.

"It's not a big deal, Iz," he shrugged lightly, grasping for something to shove him back into reality.

"No, Jax," Isabelle shook her head almost imperceptibly and just that slight movement made his heart ache. "It is a big deal. You have no idea..."

He waited as she struggled to find the words she was searching for and rested the urge to reach over. Every instinct sparking through him was screaming at him to touch her-just once, to comfort her, to help her find what she was looking for...to do whatever she needed right now. He just wanted to be there, to be what she needed, and he knew he should be eternally grateful that he was able to sit across from her at this moment.

"It's just that," she whispered finally, gesturing between them. "I've never had this before, you know? I've never had anyone tell me that...shit, I know what I'm trying to say but I...anyways, what I mean is, thank you for everything, really. Just for your support, your encouragement-that's what I've never had before. At least not about these sketches that I hardly ever show anyone. I don't know that I'd have even thought of applying to art school if it wasn't for you. I have no idea if I'll even get in but at least it's something, right? At least I'm trying...finally."

He wasn't sure what the appropriate response to all that was-it was certainly a first for him too and he figured it was going to take some serious introspection before he was able to even begin to wrap his head around everything she'd just said and what it meant. So, instead of trying to think of something profound or meaningful, he just leaned into his elbows and shrugged.

"You're welcome, Iz," he smiled back softly. Then, he abruptly slapped his hands on the table. "So...tell me about these schools, huh? I wanna know everything, Iz-don't leave anything out."

He resisted the urge to lean his head on his elbow to listen as she went into animated detail about each school, the location, programs, cost, professors, reputations-she really didn't seem to leave anything out. The obvious choice, at least to him, was CalArts. Los Angeles would probably be the perfect place for her to hone her artistic abilities and most importantly, to provide that fresh start she seemed to crave. Besides that, it was the best art school in the state. She deserved the best and he was, honestly, beyond proud of her for reaching for it. If their roles were reversed, he doubted he'd have the balls to pull his shit together the way and actually try to accomplish something worthwhile with his life. She was doing something real-something that would take her places-and if it led her out of Charming, he knew he needed to prepare himself for that exit too.

"Hey," Isabelle threw a pretzel at him, effectively drawing him out of his thoughts. "You're coming out with us tonight, right?"

"What? Uh...yeah, I don't see why not."

"Good," she exhaled. "I really need a drink."

"Why's that, darlin'?" he frowned.

Her blue eyes sparked with realization. "Oh shit-I didn't even get a chance to tell you! I ended things with Brandon last night, and...needless to say, he did not take it well."

That immediately got his attention and pricked his instincts. "Really? Everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," she dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand. "He probably said some things he shouldn't have said but I guess that's to be expected, given the circumstances."

"But you're alright?"

"I'm fine, Jax," she grinned back at him, calming his nerves. "Better than I've been in awhile, actually. I just feel like a giant weight has been lifted, you know? But...I still need a drink."

"Well," Jax's lips curled into a smirk as he spoke. "I guess I better help you out with that then, huh?"

* * *

**A/N-First of all, I apologize this took way too long to get up. Personal stress/writer's block are pretty awful recipes for trying to work on an update! Anyways, excuses aside, this wasn't as long as I would have liked but I wanted to give you guys an update for being so incredibly patient with me.**

**Hopefully, things are moving along at a decent pace here. I needed to set up a few things in this chapter about Isabelle's future out of (or maybe in) Charming and Jax's future role in the club. Right now, any major issues with the Mayans/Salazar won't come to a head until the sequel. I've been working on an outline for the sequel too, which is part of why it took me so long to update. Some foundation for the end of this story as well as for the next one were put in place-and hopefully, I wasn't too obvious!**

**As always, let me know what you thought! Any comments/suggestions/insight you have mean so much!**


	11. here is the deepest secret nobody knows

Despite the clanging of bottles and elevated voices, Isabelle really couldn't imagine being anywhere but at this table, surrounded by people who'd become such an integral part of her life. Becca and Juice were directly across from her with Opie and Donna to her right and Jax to her left. Finally, after a rough couple of days, it was almost a necessity to have a drink and unwind a little. This, right here, was exactly what she needed.

"I don't care what anyone says," Opie was goading Juice. "You can't tell me the Raiders are better than the 49ers...I won't listen to a damn word you have to say."

"No, that's blasphemy and you know it!" Juice practically stomped his foot in response while Jax just barked out a laugh.

Even though the two had been going back and forth-while arguments ranging between most Super Bowl wins to rushing yards-Isabelle wasn't putting too much effort into following along. The song playing in the background was enough to keep her bopping at the table and she yelped out a laugh when Jax playfully hip-checked her right into Donna.

"Hey, asshole," Donna pointed her index finger at Jax with faux sternness. "There's a baby bump here-did you forget that, buddy?"

Jax's hands immediately flew up in defense. "Hey, sorry if I forget sometimes...it feels like you've been knocked up for fuckin' forever."

"Jerk...I'm really glad you're going to be my baby god-daddy," Donna smirked back at him, carefully sneaking a glance at Isabelle as she spoke.

"Listen, Don," Jax threw back at her with a cocky grin. "All you gotta do is admit how much you love me and we can stop pretendin'."

Donna just rolled her eyes as Opie tossed a handful of popcorn at Jax. "Right, tell me again why I'm going to miss you when you're gone?"

Although she was literally right in the middle of them, that last comment caught her full attention. Gone? The immediate frown that crossed her lips couldn't be stopped and for a moment, her heart thudded tightly in her chest. Where was he going? Why didn't she know this?

Trying her best not to sound like a clingy, desperate...something, she couldn't stop herself from turning to face Jax. "Where're you going?"

Jax just shrugged and threw an arm easily around her shoulders. "Just a run, Iz. No big deal."

"Oh, okay," she nodded slowly, painfully aware that all eyes at their table were on them. This was such an out of body experience-it was like she was looking down at her body and watching herself awkwardly shift between Jax and Donna. At this point, it didn't matter that she didn't entirely understand what a run all entailed-someone, probably Donna, could explain it to her later; all she could really put together through her hazy grasp of the situation was that Jax was going to be leaving.

Something shifted in Jax's ocean blue eyes and she felt herself take a sharp breath. It was like he could read her mind and knew exactly what was running through it at this very moment. She really hated that about him right about now. When he gently squeezed her shoulder, it took all her remaining willpower not to shiver.

"You alright, Iz?" He murmured into her ear.

She pressed on a fake smile and it quickly faded when she realized he was just going to see right through it. No, she wasn't alright and she couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was that was bothering her so much: the fact that Jax was going to be putting himself in a potentially dangerous situation or the fact that he was leaving for an undetermined amount of time. Realizing that both of those things were troubling her, especially since she had no real reason to be, was more probably what was upsetting her the most.

"Aw," Jax was murmuring in her ear again and this time, she shivered. "You're gonna be lonesome when I'm gone, aren't ya?"

His teasing served to ease a little of the tension and her lips twisted into a grin. She elbowed him playfully in the side, making him scoot back with a yelp.

"Nah," she threw back lightly. "Miss you? Are you kidding me?"

Jax's hand covered his heart and he pretended to wince. "Ouch...that hurts me, Iz. That really hurts."

"Whatever," she just shrugged. It was then that her eyes slid to her right and caught Donna's curious smile. She quickly averted her gaze straight ahead of her only to collide right into Becca's sly smirk. Jesus Christ, wasn't the emotional confusion enough?

"Well," Becca started slowly, the knowing smile never quite leaving her eyes. "You guys are only gonna be gone for a few days, right? I mean, it's not like it's gonna be weeks or anything like that..."

"Nah," Jax shook his head. "Should just be a few days. Just the same old shit as usual."

"Oh, so that's completely not..." Becca trailed off, her eyes wide. "Oh shit."

Everyone at the table turned their heads to follow and Isabelle almost choked on her drink. Crowding into a corner across from them was Brandon and his band of assholes. He was teetering unsteadily on his feet and if that wasn't enough proof that he was half in the bag, she could spot the glassy eyes from a mile away. She supposed it was only fair that they both had the same idea to unwind with friends and a few beers but Brandon wobbled like he'd had about fifteen.

"Shit," she heard Jax exhale to her left.

Becca's face had quickly crumpled with shock. "Hey, Belle...we don't have to stay here. We could go somewhere else, right?"

She looked frantically to everyone else at the table for confirmation. When a round of nods passed around, she visibly relaxed but still kept her wide, almost desperate eyes fixed firmly on Isabelle. She knew that Becca was just trying to help but seriously...her over-blown reaction was definitely not helping matters.

"No," Isabelle swatted out a hand with a shrug. "We don't have to leave because we were here first. Besides, if we leave now, then the terrorists win, right?"

It wasn't lost on her that after her last comment, Jax's eyebrows rose up deep into his forehead. A moment later, the warmth of his hand grazed her back and his hot breath tickled her ear.

"You sure, Iz?"

She just nodded quickly, not wanting to make a bigger deal out of this than it already was.

"Well," he continued softly. "I don't care about that asshole over there, but...if you change your mind, just say the word, alright?"

Isabelle could only nod in response, still reeling from all the turmoil flooding around her. The one-two-punch of Jax leaving to Brandon's arrival was going to take more than a few moments to recover from. So, she did the only thing she could do: she just took another drink from her glass and tried to pretend like nothing was this was happening.

And for about ten minutes, it worked. Conversations went back to normal and the situation seemed to be contained. Everyone was staying on their respective sides of the bar, even if Jax's gaze flitted back and forth from her to Brandon for the better part of the peaceful quiet. Everything was, all in all, back to the way it'd been before their interruption until Brandon decided to saunter towards their table, swirling beer in hand.

Jax shifted his hip a little closer to hers; whether it was reflexively or protectively, she wasn't really sure. The second Brandon skidded to a stop about three feet away from their table, it seemed like all three Samcro cuts stood a little straighter, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

"Hey everybody," Brandon slurred, waving his beer around as he spoke. "Just wanted to come over and say hello...thanks, Isabelle, for doin' the same."

Jax tensed next to her and immediately made a move towards him, but Isabelle's hand shot out to his bicep to stop him.

"Jax, don't," she cautioned him quietly. "It's not worth it."

Although he seemed to back down and turned back to her, Brandon just snorted in response, taking an unsteady step closer to their table.

"Right," Brandon laughed mirthlessly, gesturing towards them with his beer bottle. "Slummin' it just like I knew you would, Isabelle. I don't think Mommy would be too happy to know her daughter ditched Stanford to come back here and play biker whore for this asshole an-"

He didn't get a chance to finish because Jax had already shoved past Juice, almost knocking over their table in the process, and slammed his fist squarely into Brandon's already slack jaw. Within seconds, Jax had Brandon flat on his back and landed a few furious punches before Opie and Juice pulled him off of him.

"Jesus Christ!" Opie yelled. "What the hell are you thinkin', man?"

Jax yanked himself free just as the bartender jumped over the bar, screaming at them to get the hell out. Everything seemed to rush around Isabelle in a blur as Becca pulled her towards the door. She didn't even realize she was outside until the cool breeze picked up the edges of her hair and blew it around her face. Jax stumbled out next to her with Opie, Juice, and Donna right on his heels.

"Let's get the hell outta here before shit gets worse," Opie barked out, his eyes trained furiously on Jax. "Don, follow us back to the clubhouse, alright?"

Donna nodded quickly and Isabelle quietly slid into the backseat of Donna's Oldsmobile as Becca got into the front seat. Moments later, motorcycle engines roared to life next to them and Isabelle could see Jax's shoulders rising and falling violently through the dim parking lot lights. As Donna pulled onto the street to follow the three bikes ahead of them, it was difficult to process what had just happened. Hell, she was still trying to make sense of bitter, cruel things Brandon had said to her, let alone Jax's response to them. Everything had seemed to happen in slow motion and in a blur at the same time. All she'd seen was a flash of black leather and all she'd heard was a cacophony of breaking glass and shouting.

Even though she'd been grateful for the complete silence on the way to the clubhouse, it still hadn't been enough to wrap her head around the last twenty minutes.

But the most frightening moment of the night came as she passed Jax on the way inside. He was hunched over on his bike with one hand in his hair, the other resting on the handlebars as Opie approached him. As if he sensed her presence, he tugged his cloudy gaze up from the pavement and met her head-on. The pull of his eyes, of his presence, almost made her knees buckle from the pressure. It was that moment, when their eyes collided, that she wanted to leap into his arms...and that was absolutely terrifying. Almost paralyzing, even.

Out of self-preservation or maybe fear-maybe both-she kept her head down and continued towards the clubhouse, shaking off the notion that Jax's eyes had never left her.

* * *

Jax blew out a shaky breath as he watched Isabelle's retreating form inside the clubhouse. Shifting on the seat to dig for his cigarettes, he shook his head, unable to discern how the night had gone so wrong. Everything had been going fine. Same old, same old for a Friday night. And it wasn't until that fucking dickhead decided to show his face and spout his mouth off at the one person that didn't deserve it that he'd completely lost his shit. It would be easy to blame everything that had gone down solely on Davis but he knew better.

That was the key here. He knew better. But it had felt so fucking good to finally give that asshole what was coming to him...a couple of times. He clenched his sore knuckles reflexively, grateful he hadn't broken anything in the chaos. Still, the payoff of finally getting to pummel the shit out of Davis wasn't high enough to counter the disappointment. He was so fucking disappointed in himself for letting this happen in front of Isabelle. He hadn't wanted this and he certainly hadn't wanted her to have to take the verbal abuse Davis dished out at her. As far as he was concerned, it was a no-win situation for him. At least he'd gotten to suckerpunch Davis right in the jaw for being such a god-damned insensitive prick. He wasn't entirely sure which comment had pissed him off more: the one about Isabelle slumming it as his biker whore or the one about her mom. Both equally callous, especially considering the target.

"Bro," Opie was murmuring lowly now. "What the fuck happened back there?"

He just shook his head with a shrug. "I don't know, Ope."

"What do you mean you don't know? That's bullshit and you know it," Opie shot back, his forehead creasing with concern.

"I don't know, bro," Jax sighed heavily, pushing back on his bike. "You know me and him have always had a beef."

Opie's eyebrows rose. "That wasn't about some old high school bullshit back there, Jax."

Jax promptly lit a cigarette and took a few healthy puffs before feeling like he could finally answer his best friend. "I guess I just couldn't sit here and let him say all that shit to her."

Opie nodded slowly and ran a hand over his face. "So that's what this is about then?"

"Maybe."

Opie pushed out half a laugh and a smile tugged at his bearded lips. "You know, I've been meaning to ask you about that...all this shit with Donna and the baby's got me side-tracked a little but..."

"What's your question, Ope?" Or better yet, just spit it the fuck out already.

"I don't know," Opie scratched the back of his head. "It just seems like you and her are always together at the clubhouse. Some people think you guys are hooking up or something."

Jax frowned, not exactly sure he liked where this was heading. "Who's 'some people'?"

"Does that mean you are?" Opie's lips twisted into a knowing grin and Jax had the sudden urge to bitch slap it right off.

"No," he spat back. "We're not. I'm not. Fucking gossip around this place is worse than a bunch of women."

"So...you're not hooking up with Isabelle then." Opie mused.

"No, I'm not," Jax shot back hotly, spiking the spent nub between his fingers down to the pavement in frustration.

Opie paused for a moment, like he was trying to think of the best way to word his next comment.

"Do you want to?"

"Jesus Christ," Jax shook his head. "No."

"Okay, okay," Opie held up his hands in defense. "You don't have to get so pissy, bro. I'm just tryin' to figure out what the hell is goin' on here because...well, _something_ is."

"She's my friend," Jax pushed out curtly.

When Opie's eyebrows flew into his forehead, Jax cursed under his breath.

"Yes," he clarified. "I said, '_friend_'."

"Just wanted to be sure," Opie shrugged. "So, what, you guys talk during your shifts or somethin'?"

"Yeah, somethin' like that. I don't know, Ope-I guess I can't explain it."

Opie nodded soberly and shoved his hands into his front pockets. "I'm sorry, brother. It's just that...it's not entirely out of the realm of possibility, you know? You and her? I mean, you guys have left the bar and the clubhouse together before so...people talk."

"Yeah," Jax exhaled bitterly. "I guess they do."

"So you've never even thought about it? Not even once?"

"It's complicated, Ope."

"So un-complicate it."

He said it so simply like that was the only possible answer when he didn't even know the half of it. Even though the timing of this conversation really fucking sucked, it was one he'd been meaning to have with Opie anyways.

"Look," Jax started hoarsely. "I'm only tellin' you this shit because I need you to know in case somethin' happens when I'm gone on the run. And you can't say a fuckin' word to Iz or anyone else about this unless somethin' happens, alright?"

"Okay," Opie relied seriously.

Jax sighed and pushed a hand roughly through his hair. It was now or never and he needed some sort of provisions in place in case Isabelle needed help when he couldn't be there for her. "I've been helpin' Isabelle with her dad-that's where we go whenever we've left together. Her dad usually calls her from some dive around town, drunk off his ass, and then we go pick him up and bring him back to their house. I usually stay until I'm sure she'll be alright there by herself with him."

"Shit," Opie exhaled.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Shit is right. Look, I'm gonna give her your number so she can call you if she needs some help when I'm gone, alright? But-don't say anything to her. She would probably try to murder me in my sleep if she knew I told you all this shit-it was hard enough to get her to trust me as it was...the last thing I need is for her to freeze me out now."

Opie nodded slowly and Jax could see the wheel's in his best friend's head turning. "Alright...yeah, I can do that, Jax. No problem."

"Thanks, brother."

After a moment's pause, Opie's brow creased again in deep thought. "Can I just ask...and you can punch me later but...are you sure there's not anything else there? I mean-this isn't the kind of thing you just do for a friend...when the friend is a chick."

Jax felt himself bristle and immediately went on the defensive, tugging another hand through his hair. "She's just a friend, alright? Shit, I guess if I'm being completely honest-aside from you...she's probably the best friend I've ever had."

"Come on," Opie pressed, gesturing to himself. "You're not tryin' to tell me you're lumpin' her in with me, right? We're not really comparing apples to apples here."

"Fine," he conceded grudgingly. "Maybe it's not the same but that doesn't mean I'd try anything stupid with her though. I'm too fucked in the head right now to do anything but fuck her up too-I'm not gonna do that to her. Someone like her? She deserves better than the shit I have to offer right now."

Opie was quiet for a few moments, turning to look towards the clubhouse in thought. When he finally spoke, his simple, hushed words would ensure Jax a sleepless, anguished night:

"Maybe not now, brother. But maybe when you do pull your shit together, maybe you're gonna need to revisit that."

* * *

Isabelle trudged down the stairs, with Jax right behind her, as she headed back down to the living room. Her dad was stone-cold in his bed, which, she knew, was probably the best she could hope for when it came to him. About an hour after the showdown at the bar, she'd gotten the call-it was almost like clockwork at this point. All it had taken was a quick, inconspicuous text to Jax and they were headed out to The Hairy Dog, yet another fine Charming establishment. They hadn't met any resistance from her dad too and she was grateful for it. After the night they'd both had, it was a relief to just plop down on the couch and completely zone out.

"You don't have to leave, you know," she murmured over her shoulder. She jumped a little when his warm hands grazed over her shoulders but she still couldn't turn to face him.

"Alright," he replied gently.

"Movie?"

"Sure...you can pick."

He followed her into the living room and she could hear him rest heavily on the couch. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he probably looked as tired as he sounded but...she just couldn't bring herself to turn around and look at him. Facing him now meant facing everything that was swirling around in her thoughts and she wasn't ready to do that until she absolutely had to.

So, like the coward she was, she sat down cross-legged on the carpet with her back to him. Grateful for the welcome distraction, her weary eyes scanned the rows of DVDs and Blurays until her lips curled up in a smile. Yep, that one was the perfect choice, especially given the current company. With a renewed sense of strength, she shifted a little so she could hold up the box for him to see.

"What about this one?"

Jax, who was lounging on the couch with one arm strewn over the top edge, frowned as he tried to place the title.

"You don't remember this movie, do you?" She continued with a tiny smile.

His forehead crinkled and his lips curled back into a frown. "No...should I?"

"We watched it in Amer. Lit. class," she chuckled and chucked the copy of "The Crucible" at him for a closer look. It was difficult to bite back a laugh as he examined the cover with mounting bewilderment.

"Uh...I guess that chick looks sort of familiar," he finally exhaled.

That only made this all the more entertaining.

"You really don't remember this movie? Well, actually, I think we read the play first; then we watched the movie. We had to write a big paper on it and everything," she grinned back at him.

"Yeah, uh...I think I probably slept through the whole thing," he admitted sheepishly.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean, probably?"

"Okay, fine. I absolutely slept through the whole thing."

"Yeah, I figured that," she laughed. "Now, if we're being completely honest with ourselves here, I think it's fair to say that you slept through the whole class."

"Come on," Jax dramatically rolled his eyes from his place on the couch. "It was English class."

"Hey," she cocked an elbow on her hip, rising to her knees. "I actually liked that class, okay? Don't knock it just because you didn't get anything out of it."

Jax held up his hands with a smirk. "Shit, settle down, will ya? That was, like, what? Five years ago? Can I just ask one thing?" He gestured down to the movie as he spoke. "Why do you even _have_ that?"

"I liked it," she just shrugged. "And I found it in the $5 bin. So what?"

"Okay, okay," he held his hands up again, the movie still in his left hand. "Chill out, Iz. I guess you were a little more into that class than I was..."

"Right," she stated simply. "That's why you cheated off me on the final."

Jax's mouth opened and then clamped shut, biting down hard on his bottom lip with a wince. "Shit..."

"You did a pretty bad job of hiding it...I still can't believe Mrs. Anderson didn't realize what you were doing."

"That's just because she didn't want me showin' up for summer school," he smirked back at her. "I think she was secretly in love with me...but you know, I guess she didn't wanna end up in jail either."

"Oh God," she shook her head, lifting her eyes to the ceiling. "You probably think everyone's secretly in love with you."

A smile curled up on his lips but it didn't quite reach his eyes and that was when the full realization of what she'd just said hit her. Cue the awkward silence. With nothing better to do than play anxiously with her fingers and chew on her bottom lip, she fumbled frantically for something to do, something to say to make this awkwardness fade away.

"Hey," she pushed out suddenly. "Wanna see something? Maybe you'll remember this..."

She waved for him to follow her-she had no idea where this was coming from or why she was doing this. It was like she'd risen above her body and was watching herself lead Jax back up the stairs and into her bedroom. Just like at the bar tonight-it was just as frightening but without a safety net to fall back on. There were no friends or bar tables here as a buffer, nowhere to retreat to when and if things got too heavy. It was just her and Jax here-in her room.

As she pushed through the door, the cold hand of panic gripped her throat. Had she left dirty underwear on the floor? Shit, her bed wasn't made and yesterday's work outfit was strewn across the carpet and there was a plate next to her bed with days-old pizza crust basically glued on with hardened sauce. But there was no going back now...because Jax Teller was standing in the middle of her bedroom, waiting for her to do something about it.

Finally, her mind cleared just enough to remember why she'd brought him up here in the first place. It only took her a couple of minutes to dig her sketchbook out from under her bed but she needed a minute to flip through it until her fingers skimmed across the one she was looking for. Then, like they had a will of their own, her arms extended the sketchbook towards him.

"You remember this one?"

She gestured down to the sketch, a winding, thick tree with long, expansive roots, finally complete with buds of hearts, all overlooked by an intertwined sun and moon. She'd be the first to admit it was a pretty literal interpretation of the text but, well, she was only seventeen when she stayed up late one night to sketch its image out of her head. But at least she'd had the foresight to scribble specific lines next to the visuals.

Jax's forehead creased in deep concentration as he studied the lines and shades on the paper, trying to make sense of what she was showing. From the perplexed expression on his face, it was clear that he was trying to place where he knew those words.

"Look familiar?" she asked quietly, gesturing towards the lines.

"'Here is the deepest secret nobody knows'," he murmured, his fingers running along the words as he spoke. "'Here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud...and the sky of the sky of a tree called life'."

He paused, mulling silently over the words. She waited.

"It's "I Carry Your Heart" by ee cummings," she offered quietly. "We read it in class that semester...I don't know, for some reason, that one stuck with me. The words were just...beautiful."

He nodded, craning his neck to see what she'd written next to the intertwined sun and moon. "'You are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you'."

"It's just..." she exhaled. "The most perfect explanation of what love is supposed to be. What it's supposed to mean...that whatever is going on in the world, in your life, everything's going to be okay because you've got this person that has tipped your whole world on its axis, even if you can't be with them the way you want to."

His cloudy gaze leapt up from the page and he nodded soberly, his eyes sparking with something she couldn't quite place. "You're right...it is beautiful."

She tilted her head a little with a smile. "You don't remember reading this, do you?"

One side of his lips pulled aside in a grimace and he shrugged helplessly. "Kind of...maybe if I'd seen it like this the first time, I'd have remembered it a little easier."

"Well," she chuckled. "I remembered it, as you can see. A couple years ago, I saw one of his poetry books at Barnes and Noble and I had to buy it." She grabbed it from the bottom shelf of her nightstand and held it up. "See?"

The book was even dog-eared to the poem's exact page.

Jax's eyes widened in surprise. "You bought the whole book? Just for one poem?"

"So what?" she shrugged. "I had a gift card."

"Sure you did," he smirked knowingly. "Couldn't you have just ripped out the page or something?"

"What?" she practically shrieked in horror. "No! You can't deface a book like that! Please tell me you've never done that before..."

"Whoa," he held up a hand to calm her. "Simmer down now. I promise I've never 'defaced a book' and I can't say I can think of a reason I'd ever need to so just...relax, Iz."

She waved a hand dismissively at him. "Okay, sorry. I guess I did freak out just a little there."

"Nah," he shrugged. "Don't worry about it...would've saved you that gift card though."

"Shut up."

He grinned back at her as he carefully closed the sketchbook to hand back to her. He rolled back a little on his heels, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. They stared at each other for a few long moments, neither seeming to know what to do or say next. Jax's lips twisted into a sly smirk and then he tugged a hand through his hair, his blue eyes burning deeply into hers.

"Hey, Iz?"

"Yeah, Jax?"

"We don't really have to watch that movie, do we?"

* * *

**A/N-Sorry again for the longer wait. I'm trying to survive the rest of the school year and as soon as it's all over, I know I'll have the time/energy to update more regularly. Thank you for bearing with me and sticking with this story! I hope it was worth the wait...let me know what you thought!**


	12. Lonesome When You're Gone

Jax checked the time on his pre-pay for the tenth time in the last five minutes. That idiot Salazar kept them waiting for the last twenty minutes. With every second that ticked by, his patience depleted infinitesimally. Talk about an epic fucking fail. There was nothing complicated about what was supposed to happen here: Salazar and his boys were to pick up five barrels of cargo from the Mayans normal pick-up point and then all they had to do was bring it to Samcro on time and all in one piece. Alvarez couldn't have made it any easier on them and what were they doing...just fucking up left and right.

He quickly lit up another cigarette and ignored the sideways glance Bobby tossed him. His agitation was clearly showing and he needed to get that shit in check. This was his test run just as much as it was Salazar's and he'd be damned if he let the incompetent asshole Alvarez wanted to patch in screw this chance up for him. An opportunity like this one might never come again for him, at least not anytime soon, and there was no way he could prove both his dedication and his ability to lead if he couldn't keep his head in the game.

Of course, it didn't help that he'd spent the better part of his night lying on his stiff hotel bed, trying to talk himself out of texting Isabelle. Calling her, he'd reasoned with himself, would be a little too much, would make him look a little too pathetic. But texting her...maybe he could get away with a little friendly back and forth to help him sleep. He was worried about her. That was it. And, he told himself, he needed to make sure she was okay-that she hadn't needed to use her Opie calling card yet.

It had started with just a simple: hey, how r u, made to the hotel in one piece. Then she'd responded back with: Good, glad ur in one piece. Now I can sleep tonite ;). He hadn't been able to just let that go and quickly pounded out: Glad to know i'm helpin u sleep at nite, darlin. She'd almost immediately called him an asshole back with another smiley face and then it was all over with from there. They'd texted back and forth for a good hour and when she finally told him she was starting to fall asleep, he knew that sleep was going to be a near impossibility for him for the rest of the night.

So he'd tossed and turned for the rest of the night as he tried to push the images of her out of his head. The second he closed his eyes-there it was. Her bright, warm smile that seemed to light up the entire room; her eyes that seemed to freeze him in place-hell, he even missed the sound of her voice, her laugh, everything. He fucking missed her.

Just that realization was enough to keep him up the rest of the night. He missed her. And even though he was going to be back in Charming in less than two days, it didn't seem like it could come fast enough. A slow smile crossed over his lips as their slightly awkward goodbye played over again in his head-she'd pulled him in for a quick hug and had whispered in his ear to be safe. It was all he could do to keep his hands locked around her waist and nowhere else. Just the scent of her hair-flowers and musky vanilla-whirled around him again and refused to let him go.

"Jesus Christ," Chibs swore under his breath. "When ar' these shitheads gonna git here already, huh? I'm fuckin' sick a-waitin'."

"It's hot as shit out here, too," Jax added, stomping out the spent bud as he spoke. "You'd think they would be a little more punctual, you know?"

"Punctual?" Bobby huffed. "I'm not sure those assholes would know how to be one time if it bit them in the ass. Puntual...isn't that a kinda big word for ya, Jax?"

"Hey, shut it," Jax tossed back with a grin.

"Nah," Chibs shrugged. "I think Jackie-boy's just been spendin' too time with that lass in the office."

"Ah, yes," Bobby nodded slowly. "Always chasin' that tail, huh, Jax? She rubbin' off on ya in other ways too?"

Seeing as how this simple, fool-proof opportunity for him to prove himself had eroded into nothing but ragging, Jax figured he was better off just keeping his mouth shut on this one. Anything he said here was just going to be more fodder for them to give him shit about anyways. He needed to focus on the matter at hand and that matter, as it happened, was finally riding up to their rendezvous point-albeit a half hour late.

"Finally," Bobby exhaled. "I wasn't sure how much longer I was gonna be able to stand it out here-fuckin' roastin' like a pig on a stick."

"Yeah, well, let's just hope they didn't fuck anything else up," Jax stated calmly.

"Heard ya on that one, Jackie," Chibs nodded.

They watched carefully as Salazar, three other guys on bikes, and a truck pulled up to them from the gravel back road. Ever since the club had learned Alvarez was going to patch over the Calveras, Jax hadn't been able to place the uneasy feeling that had crept through his instincts. There was something about this whole situation that didn't feel right and from his experience, usually when something didn't feel right, it wasn't right. That feeling intensified when Salazar swung his leg over his bike and sauntered over to them with a misplaced smugness and an air of superiority. There it was. Being untested and unproven, Salazar had nothing backing up his attitude but smoke. Time to put the new patches in their rightful place.

"You're late," Jax called out to him. He tapped the invisible watch on his wrist for added emphasis.

"Yeah...about that," Salazar slurred, making Jax instinctively narrow his eyes. "We just lost track of time for a little bit. We're here now and that's all that matters, right? Let's get to business."

Jax cast a quick look at Bobby, who rose his eyebrows at him in silent reply. If his initial guess was right, this was a whole lot more fucked up than he'd originally thought. He took a small step forward, eyes still narrowed, to see if his suspicions were correct. Salazar's eyes were red and glassy and the fucker reeked off pussy and booze.

"Are you fuckin' drunk?" Jax demanded hotly.

Salazar just shrugged-like this was no big deal-and didn't seem fazed by the question. "Nah, man. The party just went a little late last night is all-no problems, ese, okay?"

"No problems?" Jax rose his eyebrows in disbelief, his voice becoming deadly calm. "No problems? You don't party _before_ you make the drop-off, asshole. You party _after_ everything's said and done. When you know there were actually no problems."

"Hey," Salazar threw his hands up in defense. "We're here. The cargo's here. Shit got a little carried away last night because we were celebratin' but, it'll never happen again. We good now?"

Jax's eyes narrowed at the defensive, almost condescending tone. At this point, he was grateful Bobby and Chibs were taking a backseat on this one-this was his show here and this little shit needed to be put in his place immediately. The scary part was-Salazar actually believed that this wasn't really an issue, that he could just show up a half hour late to a drop-off because he felt like it. Besides, how the hell could he be stupid enough to celebrate before his club was even completely patched in? This did not sit well with him.

"Listen, asshole," Jax jabbed a gloved finger at him. "If you wanna get yourself patched in with the Mayans, you'd better clean up your shit. This can't happen again-it never should've happened in the first place. We need to know you're reliable and right now, I ain't seein' it, bro."

Salazar shuffled a little in the gravel, taken aback by the shift in conversation. "Back off, alright, ese? You got your cargo; I made a fuckin' mistake, okay? Do you wanna take a look at the cargo or not?"

"I'd watch your tone if I were you, _ese_," Jax folded his arms across his chest as he spoke. "Lookin' forward to giving your new Prez a full report."

Salazar's upper lip curled back in a snarl as he turned on his heel, his arms flailing out to somehow signal to his guys to open the back of their truck. Luckily for Salazar, the entire shipment was there, all five barrels filled with their livelihood. For a second, Jax almost wished that he'd been missing one-then he could've beat the shit out of the sniveling shithead in front of him. But, given their first go-round, Jax figured that wouldn't be the last time a careless douchebag like Salazar was going to screw up. There would be plenty of times for him to grind Salazar down into dust and now, he was going to savor every second.

Once the barrels were loaded into the club's truck, it was time to get the hell out of there. The sun was mercilessly beating down on them and the longer Jax was forced to stand in it, the more pissed off he felt. This was supposed to be simple. This was supposed to be fool-proof. Too bad it turned out Alvarez had decided to align himself with fucking idiots.

"Let's git the hell outta here, Jackie," Chibs muttered to him.

"Got that right," Jax nodded.

He jutted his chin out to Salazar and lit up one last cigarette for the road. "Next time, you better be on fuckin' time, understand?"

Salazar just nodded grimly, his eyes glazing over with something Jax couldn't quite place. Shaking his head in disbelief, it was difficult to understand how someone, who seemed to have everything just handed to him on a platter, could be this indifferent about such a glaringly obvious mistake. Sooner or later, all that shit was bound to catch up with him.

"Let's go home," Jax muttered to Chibs, who was already half-way into their truck. Right about now, home never looked so good.

* * *

The longer she stared at the empty bench across from her, the more depressed Isabelle felt. Right about now, lunch never sucked so much. The picnic table felt bigger than usual and that was probably because she was used to it being occupied. She was used to eating lunch with Jax. Texting him last night had only made it worse-her fingers had itched by her phone ever since he left and just that small, fleeting contact with him wasn't really enough. While the initial worry for his well-being was still there-Donna had informed her that runs usually weren't all that dangerous and were also usually followed by rollicking, sex and booze-filled welcome home parties-she'd felt off-balance the second he'd pulled away from the clubhouse parking lot on his bike.

To make matters worse, her mom's birthday was quickly approaching-almost two weeks to the date-and Jax being gone just made her feel more alone than she'd felt in a long time. She missed her mom. She missed Jax. It was crazy...she hadn't realized just how much she depended on him for...well, everything, really, until he wasn't around.

Sitting alone at lunch just compounded an already hopeless, pathetic situation.

A low voice behind her jolted her out of her thoughts: "Hey, Isabelle...is it alright if I sit with ya today?"

She turned to see Opie grinning down at her sheepishly, brown paper bag in hand, and there was no way she was going to turn him down. At this point, she was grateful for the company and Opie was Jax's stand-in, after all-as Opie had so eloquently joked the day before. At first, she'd been horrified when Jax told her Opie knew exactly what was going on whenever they had their 'late night getaway' and she'd been even more horrified to learn through the office grapevine gossip that most had just assumed she and Jax were secretly hooking up. It was as embarrassing as it was untrue-in fact, that couldn't have been further from the actual truth.

"Yeah," she nodded quickly. "Of course, Opie."

He grinned widely back at her as he swung his long legs over the side of the bench. "Thanks, Isabelle. I figured you could use some company. You looked kinda lonesome yesterday and Donna's working through lunch today anyways-getting all her shit together before the wedding, I guess."

Oh shit, she'd almost completely forgotten that Opie and Donna's wedding was quickly approaching. What was it-three weeks from Saturday? Then-like a swift kick in the gut-she realized that the happy occasion would also be bringing Tara back into town...as far as she'd heard, Donna's maid of honor plans hadn't changed. No need to freak out. No reason to have a panic attack over nothing. Everything was perfectly fine.

"I can't believe that's coming up so soon," Isabelle forced a grin on her face, more so to distract herself than anything else. "Three weeks, huh? How you feelin' about that?"

"Like I'm about to be dragged off to the slaughter," Opie bit back a smirk. "Nah...I'm just kiddin'. Donna's the perfect girl, you know? She puts up with my shit, puts up with the club's shit, and most importantly, she doesn't take any shit."

Isabelle smiled; it was nice talking to Opie like this. They rarely got the chance to actually have a conversation-their interactions usually just amounted to some small talk at the clubhouse or whichever bar they ended up at on a given night. With his quiet, observant demeanor, it was easy to feel a little intimidated by him and she had quickly learned that there was nothing there to be afraid of.

"Well, I'm really happy for you guys."

"Thanks," Opie smiled. "You know, even if she wasn't knocked up, I'd still wanna marry her, you know? I guess everything just happened a little bit sooner than we thought."

"Funny how life works, huh? Nothing ever really goes according to plan..."

"Amen to that," Opie smiled again at her before taking a huge bite out of his sandwich.

There were a few moments of silence as they sat across from each other eating their lunch and for a moment, she almost forgot the well of emotions she'd been swimming in before.

"You know," Opie started quietly. "I know Jax is gonna be home tomorrow and everythin' but, I hope you know you can call me if you need somethin'. Just say the word, Isabelle, and I'll be there to help you with...whatever you need."

She swallowed tightly and set down her sandwich. "I know, Opie. I really appreciate that-he hasn't...um...he hasn't had an issue the last few nights. He's been sleeping a lot. I think it's starting to catch up with him-but, I guess with my mom's birthday coming up soon, that could change pretty quickly too."

Opie watched her with somber, understanding eyes. "That gonna be a rough day?"

"Yeah," she nodded quietly. "It's the first...anything since she's been gone. I can't imagine Christmas will be any better though."

"Well, at least Jax will be back by then if..." Opie trailed off softly and she was grateful he didn't finish that sentence. It would be too painful to hear it uttered out loud. "He really cares about you, you know."

Her head snapped up and she felt her heart sputter in her chest. Opie laughed softly, his shoulders shaking a little as he shook his head.

"Trust me, it's true. He wouldn't have told me any of..." he trailed off again and gestured with his hands to convey what he was really trying to say. "Look, I'm just sayin' that Jax isn't the type of guy to just go spillin' everyone's shit, you know? It was just him tryin' to take care of ya...I hope you know that."

"Yeah, I do," Isabelle nodded slowly, biting down hard on her lip. "He's a good friend."

Opie's eyebrows rose ever so slightly. "Right."

There was something about his tone that worried her a little, even though she wasn't entirely sure what she should be worried about. Even as he chuckled across from her, it was like he knew something that she didn't. And try as she might, there was no stopping the hot blush that seeped into her cheeks.

Thankfully she was saved when Gemma materialized from inside the office, waving two oversized envelopes in her finely manicured hands.

"Hey, Isabelle!" Gemma shouted across the pavement. "These just came for you. If this is what I think it is, then you probably want them right away, huh?"

Opie's head whipped around to face her. "What's that, Isabelle?"

"I think they're my art school letters," she bit down on her bottom lip.

"You had them sent to T-M?"

"Yeah," she nodded robotically. "I'm still not sure how my dad is going to react to this-if I even get in, that is. Gemma told me I could send them here and I guess I just needed to make sure that I would actually get them..."

With so much going on over the last month or so, she'd been able to push all thoughts about art school out of her head. It had been easy enough to hit send and feel like it was entirely out of her hands. But now, the reality was staring her right in the face. What if they'd judged her and deemed her unworthy for their programs? She didn't have a plan B; hell, she barely even had a plan A. Suddenly, she just wanted to snatch the letters from Gemma's hands, shove them to the deepest depths of her oversized purse, and forget about them. Anything to escape having to face what was inside them.

Before she had a chance to make up her mind, Gemma was already standing next to the picnic table with the letters extended out to her. All she had to do was take them...her future was in those letters and that scared the shit out of her.

With shaky fingers, she slipped them from Gemma's hands. They didn't feel nearly as heavy as they looked. And now that they were finally in her grasp, all she wanted was her mother. And Jax.

"Are you gonna open them, Isabelle? Or are you gonna wait 'til..." Opie trailed off, his eyes darting quickly up to Gemma, who seemed unfazed by the whole exchange.

"Um...I think I'll wait until I get home or something. Lunch's almost over anyways, right?"

"Sure, Isabelle," Opie took a long gulp of his soda to hide the knowing grin crossing his face. "I get it."

"Well," Gemma perched a hand on her hip and slid a pair of sunglasses down over her eyes. "You let us know what's in those letters when you find out, alright?"

"Sure, Gemma," Isabelle smiled up at her. "And thanks again...for letting me have them sent here. I really appreciate that."

"No problem," Gemma put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "See ya back in the office."

It wasn't until Gemma was long gone and Opie silently went back to eating his sandwich that Isabelle realized what they already seemed to know: yes, she missed her mom and she wished her mom could be here with her when she finally did decide to face what was in those letters. But even if her mom was still here, even if her mom could be right next to her when she ripped them open, she would have waited for Jax anyways.

* * *

The clubhouse was already booming as the party kicked into high gear when church let out. They'd only been back in Charming for about an hour and already, Jax just wanted to find somewhere dark and quiet to crash. Thankfully, Bobby and Chibs had again taken a backseat and allowed him to relate the details of the drop-off to the rest of the club. There'd been no questions or concerns-other than the obvious misgivings about Alveraz's judgment-and he'd been met with simple nods of approval all around the table, even from Piney.

While he knew this in itself wasn't enough to completely shake off any lingering doubt about his commitment, at the very least, he knew he was on the right track to proving he could lead the club. At some point, he knew Piney would step down as VP-his health was starting to get deteriorate and Opie had confided that sooner or later, Piney's doctors were going strap Piney to an oxygen tank. Obviously, he didn't want to see his best friend's old man in that type of health situation but, when and if that happened, there was no doubt in his mind that he could be next in line as VP. It was his fucking birthright. He just needed to prove he deserved it.

The clubhouse was filled with all the usual suspects and within less than ten minutes, Tig was already trying to shove tequila shots down his throat. He felt a pair of hands wrap themselves around his waist but he just edged himself away, quickly sidestepping around the three croweaters looking to warm themselves in his bed. His tired eyes scanned the smoke-filled room and he felt his lips slide down into a frown when he didn't see who he was looking for.

He saw Opie and Donna...and Juice and Becca...if Becca was here, wouldn't she be here too? They usually came together, even if he did end up leaving with her to go help her with her dad. But if she wasn't at the clubhouse tonight, his mind immediately ticked off all the different possible scenarios of what could be going on instead: something was up with her dad, she was with some new guy, she'd forgotten he was coming home completely...he wasn't exactly happy with any of those scenarios.

It took him a little longer than he would've liked to cross the clubhouse to the pool table where the two couples were currently camping out-it was like all the croweaters in the clubhouse had latched on to him and he was dragging every single one of them along the way.

"Hey, Jax!" Donna called out to him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He grinned at the ever-growing baby bump that nudged into him.

"Hey, Don," he leaned down to her. "How's my god-kid doin', huh?"

"Just fine, Jax. I'm glad you're back."

He squeezed her shoulder before slapping Opie on the back in greeting. A moment later, he wasted no time in getting to the heart of the matter and called out to Becca.

"Hey, Bec, where's Iz tonight? She sick or somethin'?"

He carefully avoided Opie and Donna to his left and chose instead to focus on Becca's answer.

"Uh, I don't know, actually," she called out to him over the music. "I told her to come but she said she was tired or something like that."

"Sure, right," Jax nodded quickly.

Suddenly, he didn't really feel like mingling here in the clubhouse any longer than he had to. A little small talk here and there, make an appearance...he had three long days behind him, including the longest trip back from the drop-off point of his life, and he honestly didn't see anything wrong with just wanting to crash somewhere for a while and figure out what the hell was wrong with his head right now.

About ten minutes later, Jax found an opening to sneak off to his dorm room and collapsed onto his bed-but not before shaking off another croweater in his wake. They were fucking relentless...how had he put up with that shit for so long? He was starting to wonder why he'd ever thought that was a good idea in the first place. Sure, it had been fun while it lasted and he supposed they had served their purpose but, after awhile, all the random faces just seemed to blend together. Shit, he couldn't even really remember the last time he'd taken a tumble in the sheets with one. It just wasn't really what he wanted anymore.

He punched his pillow in a fruitless effort to get more comfortable and tossed around in his sheets before finally throwing them off altogether. The music, combined with all the yelling and clanging around-it was all just too loud right now. He couldn't hear himself think even if he wanted to.

With a deep, frustrated exhale, he snatched his pre-pay off the end table and flipped it open. It was only 10:30 and here he was, lying in bed with the party going on without him. Even stranger yet-he was sort of okay with that.

But if he was being completely honest with himself, he knew what was really bothering him. If she was out in the clubhouse right now, he knew he'd be there too. But she wasn't, so he was here instead.

So, instead of ruminating any further, he hit send over her number.

"Hello?"

The second he heard her voice, the huge weight settling on his chest evaporated.

"Hey, Iz."

"Hi, Jax." He could hear the smile in her voice and felt his own tugging across his face. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know," she replied simply. "Donna told me you guys usually throw a big party when you come back from runs so, I don't know, I just figured you'd be doing something like that."

Jax wasn't exactly how he felt about the fact that she was expecting him to be out partying right now...but then again, his past behavior had taught her to expect nothing less. Even despite that, just the sound of her voice calmed the nerves that had been jumping up around in him and suddenly, waiting until tomorrow morning at T-M seemed like too long.

"Well," he ventured. "Why aren't you here at the clubhouse?"

"I wasn't sure I was invited."

"You're always invited, Iz," he frowned. "Why would you think you weren't?"

"I don't know...it just kinda seemed like a club thing..."

"Okay," he exhaled, running a hand over his face. "Well, look, it's loud as shit over here-I'd kinda like just a low-key thing tonight...so, would it be alright if I stopped over by your place? I don't know, watch a movie or somethin'?"

He waited, chewing anxiously on his bottom, and waited as she seemed to weigh her options.

"Okay, sure, Jax. Come on over-I'll get some popcorn going."

"Fantastic, Iz. See ya soon."

He snapped his pre-pay shut and all but leapt off his bed, quickly shoving his wallet and phone in his pocket. He couldn't get out of the clubhouse fast enough-for the first time in a very long time, that wasn't where he wanted to be.

* * *

Isabelle shifted nervously from side to side as she listened for the tell-tale roar of Jax's motorcycle engine. Popcorn and a few drinks were already waiting on the coffee table and she had their movie selection narrowed down to two...and she had her letters waiting right next them. She'd been staring at them for an almost full 24 hours and was practically foaming at the mouth to finally see what was inside.

The fear of the unknown had, for the most part, long subsided-now she thought she might end up in a padded room if she didn't find what those letters said soon.

Jax calling tonight had been nothing short of a shock. She really hadn't expected to hear anything from him-maybe a text, if she was lucky-and she already had her pajamas on and everything. It wasn't so much that she hadn't wanted to go to the clubhouse. Both Becca and Donna had told her she could and should be there tonight but, for some reason, she felt a little uneasy about being there.

She couldn't explain it exactly; there was really nothing she'd rather do that see Jax-she'd missed him more than she was willing to admit. Maybe she didn't want to seem too eager to see him though. And, given what she'd already seen during parties at the clubhouse, she didn't think she could stomach seeing some random girl all over him tonight. Let alone see him and said random girl stumble into his dorm room.

Finally, the roar of Jax's motorcycle ripped through the walls and even though she'd thought she would feel relieved, her heartbeat just spiked in anxious anticipation. Less than a minute later, he was knocking on the door and it felt like her entire body was on fire. There he was-he'd only been gone for three days but it had seemed like three weeks. His hair hung down past his ears, still a little wet from a recent showering, and he was wearing his typical plaid flannel with his cut over the top. Nothing out of the ordinary yet seeing him, finally, with that sexy smirk, made her chest feel like it would burst. And her toes curl into the wooden floor beneath her.

He was leaning into the doorframe, waiting expectantly to asked in. That smirk curved even further up the side of his face and she almost lost her grip on the door handle.

"So..." he grinned. "You gonna stare at me all night or are you gonna get over here and give me a hug?"

"Asshole," she muttered under her breath.

Before she could think twice, she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck. She could feel his hands slide around her waist and it took every last ounce of her control not to shiver at the contact. Leaning into him, she allowed herself one inhale of musk, leather, and grease and then froze when she realized his nose was practically burrowed in her hair. She swallowed tightly and then reluctantly unwound her hands from around his neck to step away, wishing she didn't feel so cold when his hands left her waist.

"Come on in," she gestured towards the hallway softly. And then she remembered. "Wait! Jax!"

He skidded to a stop, whirling around to face her with wide eyes. "What?"

"I got something in the mail yesterday," she grinned back at him and tugged furiously on his sleeve to pull him towards the coffee table.

His eyebrows rose when he caught sight of the over-sized letters sitting next to her Mountain Dew can. He hovered over the coffee table for a few long seconds before shifting back to face her, his eyes glimmering with excitement.

"So big envelopes are good, right?" he murmured.

"I hope so," she exhaled anxiously.

After a moment's pause, Jax blew out a breath and ran a nervous hand through his hair. "How long have these things been sittin' here?"

"They came in the mail yesterday."

His eyebrows flew up in surprise. "Yesterday? Why the hell haven't you opened them yet?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I guess it didn't feel right to open them up without you. I mean, I don't think I even would've applied if you hadn't talked me into it."

Something clouded over Jax's eyes that she couldn't quite place. If he stared at her like that any longer...she didn't know what she would do. Probably something embarrassing and humiliating.

"Well, Jesus Christ, Iz," Jax called out exasperatedly. "Are you gonna open the letters or not?"

Biting her lip nervously, she snatched the letters off the table and tore open the first one she could get her hands on. Her heart stopped as she skimmed over the words.

"Well..." Jax prompted, crouching down a little to get a better look at her face.

Her eyes flew up to him. "I got in."

Jax's grin widened and he quickly grabbed the other letter from the table, thrusting it out to her. Seconds later, she was trying to remember how to breathe.

"I got in."

Jax's face broke out in a triumphant grin and he threw his arms up over his head. "Yes! I fuckin' knew you would! I knew it! Get over here!"

He pulled her to him and practically lifted her off the ground as his biceps squeezed her waist. His hands were in her hair, on her back, all over her waist, and she felt a little light-headed from all of these feelings rushing around her at once. When he finally set her back down, their cheeks collided and the scratch from his whiskers made her head spin. Then she caught the way he was looking at her, with dark, hooded eyes that were focused squarely on her lips, and her breath hitched in her throat. She could feel his hot breath grazing her neck and this time, there was no way to stop the shiver that shuddered through her entire body. Every sense was heightened; every touch felt it would light her on fire. Jax exhaled against her neck and then lifted his head, gently brushing some hair out of her face. For a moment, she could have sworn he leaned forward.

And then just like that, the spell was broken.

His arms dropped to his sides and he quickly t ook a small step backwards, coughing lightly as he slipped his cut off and tossed it onto the armchair next to him.

"So...um...how was the run?"

Awkwardness had rapidly taken over the room and Isabelle could only desperately try to beat it back.

Jax ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. "It was...interesting, I guess. Things didn't exactly go the way we planned but it all worked out."

"That's good," she nodded, biting down on her bottom lip. There was obviously more to the story but it was also clear that he wasn't going to go into the details. She wasn't entirely sure she needed them anyways..that was one aspect of his life she could honestly say she didn't know a lot about and, sometimes, she figured she was better off not knowing.

Jax blew out a deep breath before settling down on the couch. He reached forward and cracked open the Mountain Dew she'd set out for him; he took a long pull from the can as he gestured towards the opened letters on the coffee table.

"So, which one do you think you're gonna go to?"

"Well," she sighed. Here was the part about all this that wasn't going to be easy-the part she hadn't really allowed herself to think about for too long. "The programs aren't all that different-I could commute to San Francisco and I'd have to move to LA for CalArts."

"So which one is the best?"

"CalArts has the best reputation-they seem to have the most name recognition around the country."

"Well, that's gotta be the one then, right?" He gestured out to the letter.

"But it's in Los Angeles, Jax...that's, like, five hours away from Charming..." she trailed off, immediately struck by the weight of that statement.

Jax seemed to waver for just a moment as he rubbed a hand across his mouth. Pain flashed across his face-if she'd blinked, she would've missed it-and then a mask, not unlike the one she'd seen for the last three months, slipped right back into place.

"But it's the best one?"

She nodded silently in response, wishing there was a way she could move CalArts to Charming, or, at the very least, to San Francisco.

"I mean, you deserve to go to the best school, don't you?" He went on. "After everything...you deserve the best, Iz; you've fuckin' earned it."

"Thanks, Jax," she smiled softly as she plopped down on the couch next to him.

He was right...she'd earned this and at some point in her life, she had to take a chance on something. As her mom always used to say, she'd never know if she didn't try. After 21 years of doing everything she was supposed to do and what was best for everyone else, she figured it was about time to start thinking about what was best for _her_.

As she leaned forward to hit power on the Bluray player, her stomach fluttered when he swung his arm out to rest directly over her head. When she finally settled back into the cushions, her body just seemed to gravitate underneath his outstretched arm and for the first time in the last three days, calmness flushed through her. His fingers brushed her shoulder, almost coaxing her back, and she finally relented, dropping back against his arm. As her head rested gently into the nook of his shoulder, all the stress released from her body in one deep exhale.

Everything else just seemed to fade away as the movie played in the background: missing her mom, Tara's rapidly approaching return, whatever had happened during the run, the reality of choosing CalArts...everything could wait as she was enveloped by the warmth of his skin, the scent of leather and gasoline, and Jax.

* * *

**A/N-Sorry again for long wait in between updates. Like I said last time, school is finally winding down for me-a week and a half left!-and then I'll be back to updating more regularly. This one was particularly difficult to write for some reason, so I apologize if it seemed a little uneven. Anyways, I'm really excited to get going on the next chapter though...it's gonna be a big one.**


	13. I Got You

**A/N-Sorry again for the longer wait but I'm officially done with school (today!). So, to celebrate, I decided to post this in its entirety. There were a few places I almost cut it off at but I figured, why not post the whole thing? Anyways, I've had this chapter in my head since before I even started writing the first chapter how many months ago and I am really proud of how it turned out. I can't wait for you guys to read it. Enjoy...**

* * *

Isabelle blew out a deep breath as she stared down at the pile of paperwork still staring up at her. With three hours left to go on her shift, it was more than likely that the pile would be sorted, signed, and dated before 4, but then again, she'd been moving a little slower today. She'd been fine this morning and had been able to keep it together during lunch because Jax had dutifully distracted her, but right now...when she was in the office alone, it was getting harder and harder not to think about her mom. Thankfully, mercifully, Gemma was at Cara Cara today-at the very least, if she was going to wallow, she could wallow without an audience.

She knew today was going to be difficult but she never would've guessed just how much. Every time she closed her eyes, all the images she'd suppressed for the last ten months came flooding back to her. Every memory she cherished, every moment in the hospital she'd tried to forget...there was no stopping it now that it'd started.

Her mom had never made a big deal out of her birthdays so it had always been up to Isabelle and her dad to figure out a way to make it special. They'd surprised her on her 40th birthday by taking her to Disney Land-her favorite place on earth-and other years, it was as simple as making sure they had her favorite cake and went to her favorite restaurant. Her mom had always feigned surprise but it was no secret that she'd come to expect something, if not because her dad refused to let her birthday be 'just another day'.

But as her mind wandered over to that last birthday, the one they'd had to spend in the oncology wing, her eyes fluttered shut to trap in any tears that threatened to splatter right onto her long-forgotten paperwork. Her mother's frail, pale body had barely been able to stay upright long enough to eat the food they'd brought in and since her stomach couldn't handle much more, they'd had to take the small piece of chocolate cake they'd brought back home.

"Forget this one," her mom had whispered into her ear as Isabelle leaned down to hug her goodbye. "Just remember the good ones, okay?"

She wanted to...she really did. But it was just so hard, as painful as it was, to not think about the last one. She couldn't close her eyes and not see her mom, bald from chemo and struggling to breathe, forcing a pained brave smile on her hollow face. She'd tried so hard to not to show them how much pain she was in, how tired she was, and how difficult it was to even breathe. And now she was gone. No more birthdays. No more hellos. No more goodbyes.

It was then that the traitorous tears slipped down her cheeks. She knew it wouldn't do her any good to sit here, when she was really supposed to be working, and ruminate over everything her mom would miss...but she just couldn't help it. And then suddenly, she abruptly whirled around in her chair to face the wall as her shoulders heaved with sobs.

Isabelle didn't know how long she'd stayed like that, quietly sobbing into her hands until she felt herself swiveling around and calloused fingers pulling her hands away from her face. Those same fingers gently brushed some hair away from her eyes and then curved around her jaw to bring her face up.

"Hey, Iz," Jax's quiet voice floated around her and just like that, the tension mounting inside her began to subside. "Just breathe, okay?"

She inhaled shakily and when her body seemed to falter, his hand reached across to lightly rub her back.

"Just breathe, Iz."

Her eyes travelled up from the carpet to find that Jax was level with her, crouching down so he could get a better look at her, his forehead creased with palpable worry.

"I'm...I'm fine," she sputtered unconvincingly.

To his credit, a quick smile crossed his lips before sliding right back into concern. He blew out a deep breath and anxiously rubbed his hands on his denim work pants.

"I know, Iz; I know...I just, uh, I just wanted to make sure you were alright in here."

"How did you know?"

He shrugged as his lips twisted into a sheepish grin. "When your chair turned around, I figured somethin' was up."

Of course he'd been keeping an eye on her. She really shouldn't have expected anything less. At this point, he knew her well enough by now to know that this day was going to be next to impossible for her to endure. That was also why he'd sat her down earlier this week and laid out a careful plan to keep her and her dad as far away from each other as possible today.

"Look, don't hit me for sayin' this but...maybe you should take off and head to Becca's right away. You don't have to stay here if..."

She didn't need him to finish; it was clear what he was about to say. If it was too much. If it was too hard. It was really just an obsolete observation anyways. What was she going to do if she went to Becca's right now anyways? She'd be alone until Becca got home from work anyways and being alone right now was not a position she wanted to put herself in.

When she started shaking her head, Jax just exhaled exasperatedly, like he'd already known how she would respond.

"I'll be okay," she tried to reassure them both with faltering confidence. "Really, Jax...I just had a bad ten minutes here where it was hard to forget but...look, if I leave now, what am I gonna do?"

They'd been over this already too. Jax had tried to convince her that taking today off would be better, that she could just do whatever she needed to do without an audience or having to deal with grouchy customers but she'd remained firm on this one. She needed the normalcy today...or as normal as today could be. And she absolutely needed to be around people, especially people that knew what today meant and would understand.

"And anyways," she continued softly. "If I leave now, Gemma's going to have to leave Cara Cara and I don't want to have to deal with any of that today either."

"Don't worry about Gemma," Jax shot back sharply. "I can handle Gemma. But if you need to-"

"I'm fine, Jax," she cut in quietly. Catching herself almost about to put a hand on his cheek to reassure him even further, she quickly let it fall to rest on his shoulder.

He rubbed a hand over his face and blew out a deep breath. "Alright...if that's what you want."

"I've got a huge pile of paperwork here to distract me that has to be finished before I leave. It'll be fine, promise."

He didn't look anymore confident in her words than before but let it go. While she knew all this concern and worry was coming from a good place, bringing Jax down with her today wasn't going to help either of them. When he finally rose back to his feet, still rubbing his hands anxiously on his pants, she was suddenly struck by the loss of that closeness. He always seemed to know exactly what to do and exactly what she needed-she had no idea how he was able to read her so well.

The rest of her afternoon was much more productive than her morning. With that pile of paperwork continuing to beckon to her, she settled in and whipped through it, probably a little too quickly but the distraction was definitely a god-send. Once she got into work-mode, it was easier to let everything else slip away for a few hours. She could deal with all that later; for now, the work needed to get done.

Everything was going just fine up until she dug into her overnight bag for her phone charger and realized it wasn't there. Biting back a wave of panic, she all but dumped the whole thing out on her desk, frantically searching for the one thing she needed just as much as her contact case. She knew exactly where it was too-plugged into her wall right next to her bed. Right where she fucking left it. How could she have forgotten something so crucial? Was it just because she'd been so out of sorts this morning that she'd neglected to check? She could remember unplugging it this morning before leaving for work but, in the blur that always amounted to bleary mornings, that was as far as she got.

The problem was that, according to Jax, under no circumstances was she supposed to step foot back inside her house after leaving for work in the morning. She was supposed to go directly to Becca's after her shift and call him when she got there. When her dad inevitably called her for a ride home from wherever he decided to drown himself in for the night, all she was supposed to do was call Jax; he and Opie would take care of the rest so she wouldn't have to be near it-and, she suspected, because Jax didn't want her to have to see it.

The plan was simple enough and at the time, seemed completely fool-proof. So much for that.

Her phone battery was currently at 30 percent and wasn't going to last until the early morning hours when her dad was bound to call. If her battery died, how she was supposed to know when her dad needed her? If she only knew where he was going to be tonight, she could just give the bartender Jax's number but that wasn't an option. Even though she'd already told her dad she was staying with Becca tonight, the likelihood of him actually remembering that-even if he had Becca's number-was slim to none.

She wouldn't be able to sleep tonight if there was no way for her dad to get in contact with her. None of the alternatives were good-either he would attempt to drive himself home with disastrous results or he'd pass out in the parking lot on the way to his car. He needed to be able to call her, for her own sanity just as much as his safety and well-being.

There weren't any other options-she'd just have to stop at home on the way to Becca's. Her dad was never home from work earlier than 6:00 anyways and even that was generous. All she needed to do was just run inside, grab her phone charger, and she'd be back in her car in less than five minutes. Besides, she told herself, on the off-chance that her dad was home early, she could just slip in and out unnoticed. In and out. That's all it would be. And then she'd call Jax when she got to Becca's. And then she'd charge that stupid phone.

Although a bout of uneasiness slid down her spine, she realized with a heavy heart that she'd had to keep this from Jax. He would never let her go over there by herself but...the truth was, she didn't want to be any more of a burden to him than she already was. He'd already gone above and beyond and there was no point in worrying him even more than he already was. Besides, there was nothing to be worried about anyways.

At 4:00 on the dot, Gemma arrived to finish up the closing paperwork, unceremoniously relieving her of duty. This only the third time she'd been left alone all day in the office and it was clear that Gemma didn't quite trust her yet to close up shop on her own. With her work for the day done, Isabelle pushed through the office doors to head out into the garage. Jax seemed to find her almost immediately and threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in close to his side.

"Ya made it," he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Now get outta here and go watch some movies and eat ice cream or whatever you chicks do together."

"Oh, okay," she laughed. "Sure."

"And you're gonna call me when you get there, right?" He was still smirking down at her but she could see the worry creeping back into his eyes.

"Yes, Jax," Isabelle tried to toss back lightly. "I promise."

"Alright...and then as soon as you get that call, let me know. If you can't get me-I can't imagine why you wouldn't but-"

"I know, I know, Jax," she cut in quickly. "I'm supposed to call Opie and if I can't get a hold of Opie, then I call Donna."

"Alright, smartass...get outta here then."

He was practically pushing her towards the parking lot and she couldn't help but laugh as he playfully nudged her with his elbow, which only slightly numbed her guilt. She didn't exactly feel comfortable lying to Jax, especially given how adamant he was that she not go home tonight, and even if it was a lie by omission, a lie was still a lie. Still, it wasn't like there were a whole lot of other options here for her. What was she supposed to do? Ask Jax to go to her house just to get her phone charger? That was absolutely ridiculous. He wasn't her errand boy and he certainly wasn't her boyfriend. She couldn't ask him to do that, especially not when he still had an hour left of his shift.

In and out, she repeated to herself as she pulled into her driveway. Just run up the stairs, grab the charger, and run back down. She'd be at Becca's in less than fifteen minutes. It really was that easy and she'd almost gotten there, almost gotten down the stairs with her charger in hand, when she heard glass breaking in the kitchen.

She froze on the steps as her heart plummeted to her stomach. He was supposed to be at work...his car wasn't in the garage...what was he doing here? As her feet edged down the stairs and her dad's slumped over figure came into view, there were two thoughts simultaneously running through her mind: she needed to call Jax...was her dad even breathing? The latter thought propelled her into the kitchen as everything else numbed to the stuttered thumping in her chest. It was like she was hovering over her body, watching herself reach out to check his pulse. It could've been a nightmare but she couldn't trick herself into believing any of this was just a bad dream. This was a living nightmare; that's what this was...and as much as she knew she should turn back and run, there was no stopping her body from its current path.

Because slumped over at the kitchen table, with broken glass littered beneath his chair, was her father. Her father. All the moments when he'd actually been a true father to her came flooding back to her and she had a clear vision of them sitting at that same kitchen table, carving pumpkins and laughing and throwing the insides at each other. This was her daddy. She couldn't walk away. She couldn't leave him now. Not when he needed her the most...even if he wasn't sober enough to realize it.

He jerked underneath her touch and his head turned slightly towards her, his eyes glazed over with just a hint of recognition.

"Dad?" she whispered.

Something muffled rumbled from his chest as he pushed himself up by the elbows and was somehow able to stumble off the chair, heading straight for the counter. Straight for his half-empty tumbler of whiskey.

"Dad..." she called after him, her arms reaching out to him but unable to grasp him. "What are you doing home? I thought you were at work..."

"Sent me home," he grumbled half-audibly. "Made me take a cab..."

She nodded slowly, even though she knew he couldn't see her with his back turned. He must have either shown up already drunk or was caught drinking on the job...if either of those things were true, odds were, he wouldn't have a job tomorrow. Her breath halted in her throat as his shaking hands grasped the whiskey bottle to top off his glass.

"Daddy...please, don't..."

The glass slipped from his hands and tumbled to the counter, bouncing as it fell and spewing shards of glass on the counter, on the floor, everywhere.

"I tried so hard..." her dad whispered hoarsely. "All I wanted was for her to be happy...I tried so hard to make her happy..."

"She was, Daddy; she was," Isabelle tried desperately to reassure him, tears slipping down her cheeks.

He just shook his head, his eyes boring a hole into the counter in front of him. "No, she wasn't. I did everything I could, anything I could think of...it wasn't enough. It wasn't god-damn enough for her."

"You were enough, Dad...I know you were." She was reaching out to him again but this time, he shrugged off her attempt.

"No, I wasn't," his knuckles turned white from gripping the edge of the counter so tightly. "I don't know why she stayed so long...after you left for college, she didn't have to anymore..."

A soft sob escaped her lips and her hand flew over her mouth to mask it. He couldn't see how much this was shattering her too; he couldn't see how much she needed him, not when he was so weak. There was nothing harder.

"Dad...I..." she trailed off, all words failing her. There was nothing she could possibly say that would ever make this better for him.

He was shaking his head now as his fingers closed over a large shard of glass.

"There's no point in trying anymore, Isabelle," he muttered, bringing the shard closer. "I'm no good to anyone...no one at work trusts me anymore, no one even looks at me anymore...you're ashamed of me...there's no point."

As soon as she realized what he was about to to do, a strangled cry erupted from her throat and then she was lunging forward, arms outstretched-almost flailing towards their destination. Her left hand flung out to snatch the shard from him just as he brought it down to attack his wrist. She could feel the glass slice through her skin but there was no pain-it was like she'd been submerged underwater and everything around her was hazy.

Her dad slid down the counter as she stumbled back, finally looking down at the red droplets of blood sprinkling the tile beneath her. Was that...was that her blood? What was going on...oh God. She stumbled backwards, slipping on a wayward piece of glass- and cracked her head down on the ceramic tile in the process. Her head bounced with a sick smack and then everything went blank. Somewhere in the hazy fog, her dad sobbed quietly, propped up against the kitchen counter but she was having troubles seeing him.

With her sliced-open hand throbbing-not to mention dripping with blood-and the pounding in the back of her skull, it was all she could do get back on two feet. Even when she managed to shakily hoist herself up, the dizziness nearly knocked her right back down. Somehow, she dug her phone out of her back pocket and stiffly worked through the address book before finally, mercifully, landing on Jax's number.

* * *

Thirty minutes. It had been thirty minutes since Isabelle left T-M's parking lot. She should've been at Becca's apartment about twenty minutes ago, which meant she should've called him about twenty minutes ago. Or, at the very least, texted him. There was no way Isabelle would forget to let him know she'd made it there alright-she knew how serious this was and she knew the plan. Something about this didn't feel right.

She should've called him by now.

This shit was all but driving him out of his mind. His fingers twitched at his sides, just itching to dig into his back pocket for his prepay but...indecision skidded him to a halt. Would that be over-stepping? By all rights, it had only actually been a half hour-which, even he had to admit wasn't that much time. There were plenty of reasonable explanations why she hadn't called yet-she could've stopped for gas or at an ATM or maybe she was already at Becca's and had just lost track of time. She wasn't family and she definitely wasn't his old lady, he had to remind himself, so it was difficult to reconcile the craziness coursing through him right now.

Still...something wasn't right here.

Unable to wait any longer, he flagged Juice down and when he couldn't get the douchebag's attention, he jogged through the shop to get to him, sidestepping wayward tools and grease-stained rags along the way.

"Yo, Juice!" Jax called out sharply, annoyed that he still couldn't seem to get the guy's attention. When Juice's mohawked head finally popped up, he didn't even wait a beat before firing off his demands. "Hey, can you get Becca on the phone for me?"

Juice's eyebrows flew up into his forehead. "What? Whadda ya need to-"

"Just do it, Juice," he snapped.

Juice blinked back in surprise and then hastily dug into his back pocket, quickly making the call.

"Ask her if Isabelle's there yet," Jax directed, shoving his hands deep into his pockets to mask the nervousness.

Juice nodded quickly and it was all Jax could do to not rip the phone away to talk to her himself. No, instead, he just stood there helplessly.

"Hey, Becs," Juice was saying into the phone now. "Hey, is Isabelle at your place yet?"

Jax waited, nearly leaning forward in anticipation as he listened for what he needed. Juice's expression told him everything he needed to know-Isabelle was still unaccounted for. Still, Juice shook his head for quick confirmation as he listened to Becca on the other end.

"She says she hasn't heard from Isabelle yet either," Juice relayed. "When did she leave?"

With a frustrated exhale, he resisted the urge to slam his fist into something...that wouldn't help him right now. He just need to-the vibrations in his back pocket caught him off guard, but a beat later, he was digging it out of his pocket with frantic need to see the caller ID. A quick exhale of relief left his lungs the second his eyes found what he needed to know.

"Nevermind, Juice," he swatted out a hand as he stepped away to bring the phone to his ear. "She's calling me right now...everything's good."

"Hey, Iz," he answered, relief flooding through him with every second that ticked by. Everything was fine now. She was going to tell him she'd just pulled into Becca's apartment complex. No big deal. "You there? Everything okay?"

Because he'd literally just talked himself into believing that his initial worries about today and everything that could go wrong with it, he was unprepared to hear the voice on the other end of the line.

"Jax?"

His heart crashed into his stomach at the sound of Isabelle's hoarse, desperate voice. Everything came rushing around him at once: she was crying, she was scared, and she was in trouble. Immediately, his instincts kicked into high gear-he could deal with the fear and the panic that gripped him later because he had to get to Isabelle first.

"Iz?" He tried to stay calm for her sake but that shit was easier said than done. "What happened?"

"I...I don't know," she stuttered, her voice wavering with a new round of sobs. "My dad...and there was glass...there's so much blood, Jax...I need help...my head hurts but the blood won't stop...Jax..."

He was already high-tailing it towards his bike when he skidded to a stop at the mention of blood. Shit-this was bad. Really fucking bad. He had to get to her now.

"Listen to me, Iz, okay?" He spouted off quickly, barely cognizant of the fact that Opie had fallen right into step behind him. "Where are you hurt? What's bleeding?"

"My hand..." she replied hoarsely, her breathing coming in and out way too fast. "I fell back and hit my head...it hurts, Jax...it won't stop bleeding."

"Okay, okay," he swung his leg around his bike as he spoke. "Listen to me, as soon as you hang up, you call 911, alright? Isabelle?"

There was a brief moment of silence as she inhaled shakily. She couldn't fight him on this because she was going to need a fucking ambulance.

"Okay," she whispered finally.

"Can you get up the stairs, Iz?"

"Yeah...I think so."

"Then you're gonna get upstairs and lock yourself in your room, alright? Don't open the door until I get there, okay?"

"Okay, Jax,"

"Just sit tight, Iz; I'll be right there."

He snapped his prepay shut and shoved it back into his pocket as Opie started up his bike next to him. The office door swung open so Gemma could stalk towards them, one hand shielding her eyes from the sun. Even from across the parking lot, it was clear Gemma hadn't left her post to bitch him out for deserting his shift. She'd seemed to sense the danger just as much as he did.

"Jax?" She called out to him. "What's going on?"

"I gotta get to Isabelle's," he yelled out, frustrated to have to waste another second in this parking lot. "I'll call you when I can."

He couldn't spare another moment to wait for a response and so he blasted out of the parking lot with Opie close behind him. While he hadn't had a chance to even explain what was going on, he would always be eternally grateful for his best friend's intuition-especially given that Opie already knew enough about the situation to be able to put two and two together.

The entire ride to Isabelle's house flew by in a blur-it was nothing short of miracle that they didn't get pulled over. Whatever force was responsible for getting them there in under ten minutes, and safely...well, he could thank them later. When her house finally came into view, he could feel his adrenaline spiking furiously. He hadn't yet allowed himself to think about what was waiting for him in this house and he couldn't afford to break now.

Hastily propping up his bike, he leapt around it and sprinted up the walkway, banging into the house with the sheer rush of anxiety, fear, and desperation. He was already taking the stairs three by three as he yelled out to Opie:

"She said there was glass all over so check the kitchen for him."

That was all the time he was going to spend concerned with Isabelle's father. He could deal with that mother fucker later. Right now, he just needed to get up these stairs. Droplets of blood sprinkled the carpeted steps towards Isabelle's room and cold panic tightened up in his chest.

"Iz?" He called out when he got up to the top and pounded on her door. "Iz, it's me. I'm here. Come on, open up."

When the door finally opened, Isabelle's tear-stained, ashen face stared up at him. He could feel his heart tear in two as he took in the sight of her. Disheveled hair, frantic, desperate blue eyes with a blood-soaked towel wrapped around her left hand and before he could stop himself, his hands were closing around her cheeks to give her something, anything, that she needed right now. Anything to erase the haunted look in her eyes. Anything to make it so this never happened.

"Look at me, Iz," he whispered softly. "You're okay, baby; you're gonna be okay. I need to see your hand, alright? Can I open up the towel?"

She nodded silently into his hands and he gently took her tiny left hand in his to gingerly unwind the towel from her wound. Biting back the curse that threatened to erupt, he immediately pressed the towel back into the dangerously deep slash across her palm. He wasn't a doctor, but he'd helped Chibs stitch up enough people to know that this cut needed medical attention immediately. The smaller, less threatening scraps across her fingers would probably be fine but the long, jagged slice down the length of her palm was another story. He'd seen a lot of bad shit through Samcro but none of the danger, none of the potential blowback had ever really seemed that tangible but this...this wasn't something that could just be tossed aside and forgotten. This was the stuff of nightmares.

With one hand closed tightly around the towel to slow the blood flow, his other reached up to brush the tears from her eyes. Without even realizing it, he was leaning forward to kiss her forehead, and wrapped his free arm around her shoulders to pull her in close.

"This can be fixed, Iz," he murmured into her hair. "You're alright, babe; you're gonna be fine. I got you."

She turned her head to bury her face into his work shirt that was already splattered with her tears. Her whole body seemed to be trembling and the only thing he could do was just hold her tighter. That was the best he could offer her and he felt like such a helpless asshole because of it.

"You called 911, right?" he asked gently, almost afraid to hear the answer. If he'd been thinking more clearly, he would've told Gemma to make the call before blasting out of T-M-just in case Isabelle couldn't-but it was too late for that now. He exhaled softly with relief when she nodded into his chest, despite the faint sirens that were getting closer and closer.

"I got you," he murmured, kissing her hair. "I got you."

It seemed like no time had passed as they stood there in her bedroom, arms wrapped around each other, when loud shouts echoed from downstairs. He could hear Opie directing the paramedics upstairs and then footsteps pounding towards them before two paramedics and some deputy he barely recognized came into view.

"Sir?" The first paramedic approached him quickly with his arms already reaching for Isabelle's left hand. "I need to take a look."

Jax swallowed tightly as he unwound himself from Isabelle but never let go of her right hand. Her eyes darted around frantically, frightened by the loss of his closeness, but he just nodded to silently tell her to let the paramedics do whatever they needed.

"Can you tell me what happened, miss?" The deputy asked as the paramedics made quick work of removing the blood-soaked towel and inspecting the cut.

"I..." she stammered. "My head hurts...I feel really dizzy, Jax,"

On reflex, his hands shot out to her waist to steady her as the second paramedic gripped her shoulder more tightly. The deputy's focused eyes quickly moved to Jax, silently asking him the same question as before.

"She called me about ten minutes ago," he started quickly, needing them to just help her already. "I couldn't get much detail but her dad's downstairs in the kitchen and she said there was broken glass and blood. I told her to call 911 and came right over."

The deputy nodded as he processed that information. "Alright, my partner is with Mr. Martin right now. Let's get them to the hospital and then we'll figure it out from there, alright?"

Jax could only nod as the paramedics started to lead Isabelle away from him and down the stairs. From where he stood, he could see that Mr. Martin was already being loaded into one ambulance and that a second was waiting on their lawn for Isabelle, in addition to two police cars. By the time he got down the stairs behind them, he felt himself being jerked back by Opie's arm.

"Hey, man," Opie called out to him. "Go with her-don't worry about anything else. I'll take care of everything here and get Gemma to the hospital."

Jax swallowed again and could barely feel himself numbly nodding.

"Hey, she gonna be okay?" Opie was asking him now.

"I think she's in shock," Jax replied quickly, his eyes trained carefully on the paramedics who were currently loading his whole life into an ambulance.

"Go with her," Opie clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll handle all this shit here."

He nodded stiffly again, not even turning his head to face his best friend as he stalked towards the ambulance. Isabelle's eyes were searching frantically and his heart shattered at the sight of her strapped into the gurney. She was reaching for him now and one of the paramedics stepped aside so he could jump in the back with her. As soon as his hands found her, one clutched her good hand while the other rooted itself to her hair and her face. He leaned down and brushed his lips against her forehead, staying that way as the ambulance pulled away from her house.

* * *

Jax fucking hated hospitals. From the monotonous white-washed walls to the sick smell of death and chlorine, there was nothing appealing about this place. He'd hated hospitals ever since having to spend three days straight locked in a tiny room, waiting for JT to die. Given the history between himself and the place he associated most with death, he'd avoided it like the plague, which wasn't helping his current predicament.

The worst thing about this place was the wait. Some blank-faced nurse would tell you she couldn't tell you anything and that you would just have to wait until a doctor could speak with you and then she would lead you over to waiting room purgatory where you had to sit and wait for some sort of absolution.

That's where Jax found himself now, in St. Thomas' ER waiting room while Isabelle sat in a room somewhere to get stitches in her hand and checked for what was most certainly a concussion. Everyone had assured him she would be fine but he wasn't ready to believe it until he saw it for himself. Past experience had taught him that-never jump the gun. Never get your hopes up.

Unfortunately, an unforeseen amount of waiting time had also provided an opportunity for rumination. There were so many questions that needed answering; first and foremost: what the fuck was she doing there? He'd planned everything out right down to the T to make sure she didn't have to step foot in that house today or see her poor excuse for a father. Did her dad call her or something? If that was the case, wouldn't she have known to call him? He would've done the exact same thing he did over an hour ago-dropped everything and sprinted to her, mowing down anything in his path. There was no good reason for her to have gone home today and the more he let himself think about it, the more frustrated he became.

He rubbed his hands across his face, only slightly alerted to the click-clack of heels racing towards him.

"Jax?" Gemma called to him. "Opie called me-what the hell happened?"

"I don't know, Ma," he exhaled wearily. "I don't know..."

"Where's her dad?"

"Fuck if I care," Jax spat back, rubbing his hands on his jeans to work through the mounting urge to barge into wherever they were keeping him and beat the living hell out of him. He deserved nothing less for putting Isabelle through this.

Gemma's eyebrows rose at his outburst but ignored it for the time being, instead choosing to fall into the chair next to him. "So...I take it a doctor's with her right now and they haven't told you anything yet."

"Yep."

"Typical," she shook her head with a smirk.

Any attempt at lightness was going to fail here. It didn't matter how much she, or anyone else, tried; the only thing that was going to bring him back from the brink of tearing this place apart was a doctor's confirmation that Isabelle was going to be okay.

Gemma swung a comforting arm around his shoulders but he barely felt it. "She's gonna be alright, Jax-from what Opie told me, it sounds like it could've been a hell of a lot worse."

"It never should've happened," he grunted roughly. "I don't know how everything got so fucked up..."

"This isn't your fault, baby; there was no way anyone could predict what that man would do today and I hate to say it...but this was bound to happen. It was only a matter of time before he really lost it and I don't know about you, but if some stitches and some Tylenol are all Isabelle needs, then I'd say she's pretty lucky."

"Lucky isn't exactly the way I would describe it," Jax mumbled.

Gemma just shrugged her shoulders and shook her head quietly. "Just be grateful she's in one piece, for the most part."

He grimaced at her grisly choice of words and made a poor attempt at exhaling his frustration. While, on one hand, he was grateful his mom was here for them, she wasn't exactly making this any easier and where the hell was that doctor? He was just about done with this fucking hospital. Finally, as if on cue, a white coat emerged from a room down the hall and started towards them. Leaping to his feet, Jax jogged the rest of the way to close the distance between them with Gemma not far behind.

"Are you here for Isabelle Martin?" The doctor asked as he shuffled a chart to his hip.

"Yeah," Jax replied immediately. "Are you her doctor?"

The doctor extended a hand out to Jax, which he quickly shook, needing to get to business already. "My name is Dr. Elwood. I assume you're her boyfriend?"

Jax swallowed tightly before shoving his hands awkwardly in his front pockets. "Uh..."

"She works for us," Gemma intervened quickly, giving his hand a quick squeeze.

Dr. Elwood's face flushed as his eyebrows flew into his forehead. "I'm sorry...I shouldn't have assumed..."

"Okay, so how is she?" Jax prompted as he folded his arms across his chest.

"My nurse is just finishing the bandages on Ms. Martin's stitches," Dr. Elwood jumped right to it. "She needed twenty stitches-given the location and depth of the laceration on her palm, it was necessary so that she'd be able to regain as much range of motion as possible during the healing process. She does have a mild concussion from the trauma to her skull which we've given her pain meds for, so she'll have a headache for the next several days and need lots of rest. She'll be in some pain for a few days but she's young and healthy; everything should heal right up."

"Okay," Jax nodded quickly, trying to process all that at once. That was good, right? Stitches would heal and a headache would go away.

"What about her dad, Samuel Martin?" Gemma asked. "He was brought in with Isabelle. How is he?"

Dr. Elwood sighed and ran a hand across his face. "As far as I know, he was taken to the psych ward for 48-hour evaluation."

"Shit," Jax exhaled softly.

The doctor nodded grimly but gestured towards a closed door to his right. "You can see her now if you'd like. Just to warn you though, she's already been told about her father."

"Alright," Jax nodded, reaching out to shake the doctor's hand again. "Thank you."

As Dr. Elwood excused himself, Jax looked briefly to his mother, who immediately gestured with her head towards the door.

"Go, Jax. I know Ope called Becca too, so she should be here any minute now. I'll just wait outside for her and then I can bring her up to speed when she gets here."

He couldn't get the door open fast enough. Suddenly, the white-washed walls and the smell of powdery medicine and stale death didn't matter to him anymore. If Isabelle was in that room, then that's exactly where he needed to be. When he pushed through the door, he found Isabelle seated numbly on the stiff hospital bed with tears streaming down her face. If she wasn't at her breaking point before, she definitely was now. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

When she glanced up at the noise, her face crumpled into full-blown sobbing, her shoulders heaving as her un-bandaged hand flew up to cover her face. "Jax..."

He closed the distance between them, his arms reaching out to encircle her and bring her into his chest. "Shh, baby; it's okay. Everything's gonna be alright. I'm here...just let it all out."

With one hand tangled in her hair, he wound the other around her back to pull her even closer. Her tears wet his face but he just leaned back to wipe the ones that streamed down her cheeks. Cupping both hands around her face, the distraught, haunted expression swimming in her eyes sliced his heart in half. He just needed to do something, anything, to make that look go away-to make everything better-so he found himself leaning in again to kiss her forehead, then travelled down to both cheeks before finally brushing his lips against hers. Her good hand wrapped around the back of his neck as their lips touched one more time before he pressed their foreheads together and brushed another wayward tear from her cheek.

"I'm sorry.." she whispered hoarsely.

"Nothin' to be sorry about," he shook his head, their foreheads still pressed together. Then he tilted backwards so he could get a better look at her. "What happened, babe?"

She squeezed her eyes shut like she was reliving it all over again and he wanted to punch himself in the face for being the cause of that.

"I stopped at home after work to get my phone charger," she began quietly. "Then when I came down the stairs-"

For second, he thought he'd misheard her. There was no way...

"Wait a minute," he cut in abruptly. "You went home because you needed your charger?"

She chewed on her bottom lip, looking anywhere but at him and when she sheepishly brought her eyes up to him, a muffled laugh caught in his throat-surprising them both. There wasn't anything funny about this situation but it was just...he'd spend several hours going over all the details, carefully considering all the angles and anything that could potentially go wrong and it'd all been toppled by a phone charger. A fucking phone charger. What were the odds?

"You know I would've gotten it for you, right?" he chuckled as he brushed some hair out of her eyes. "All you had to do was ask, babe."

"I know," she laughed quietly. "I know...trust me, I'm more than kicking myself right now."

"Well, don't, Iz. It's over, okay? But...what the hell happened?"

"He was...and...can we talk about this later?" She stumbled over the words and he wasn't about to make her relive anything else unless she was ready.

He leaned forward to kiss her forehead again just as a knock rapped on the door. "Sure, Iz."

A nurse was walking towards them now with Gemma and Becca trailing right behind her. Becca all but threw the nurse aside so she get Isabelle and immediately threw her arms around her friend.

"I just wanted to let you know that there are just a few forms that need to be filled out before you can go, Isabelle. We have to go over treatment for both your stitches and your concussion before you leave too, okay?"

Everyone else waited as the nurse went over the details: a strict regimen of pain-killers, which he'd have to pick up for a pharmacy for her later, bandages that would need to be changed twice a day that couldn't get wet, and lots and lots of rest. When the nurse took her leave from them, Becca and Gemma descended.

"Oh my God, Isabelle," Becca cried. "I'm so glad you're alright-when Juice called me, I freaked out!"

"I'm okay," Isabelle reassured her, squeezing Jax's hand as she spoke. "I just want to go home."

"Why don't you go home with me like we planned?" Becca frowned.

Isabelle just started shaking her head. "No, I just want to go home...I'm tired and I don't really feel well. Can you just take me home, Jax?"

"Are you sure you want to go back there tonight, Iz?" he asked carefully. "I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to."

"Yeah," Gemma nodded, placing a warm hand on Isabelle's shoulder. "Why don't you spend the night at Becca's? I'll give you the next couple days off so you can rest. There's no hurry, Isabelle."

"No," Isabelle shot back a little more forcefully this time, still furiously shaking her head, which probably wasn't a good idea considering she had a mild concussion.

"You could stay at the clubhouse with me tonight," he offered quickly, ignoring the two sets of wide eyes that whirled around to stare at him. "I don't mind."

"I just wanna sleep in my own bed. I'm tired and I just wanna be in my bed, Jax...please?"

A few beats later, Jax realized that all three women were currently looking to him to make this call. The last few moments had rendered both Gemma and Becca silent despite the fact that they'd been championing alternatives from the start. That they'd so easily step aside like that was a little unsettling but he couldn't quite exactly put his finger on why. But, in spite of everything that had happened today, if Isabelle wanted to go home, he was going to get her there.

"Alright, Iz; if that's what you want."

Her arms were wrapped around his neck a moment later and he was barely aware that Gemma and Becca were already on their way out the door to give them some space. He pulled her in close, grateful to finally be able to do something that could truly help her. Going home so soon might not have been what he would've chosen for her, if he'd truly been able to choose, but he also didn't want to make this anymore difficult on her than it already was. After everything she'd been through, if she wanted to sleep in her own bed tonight, who was he to deny her that? All he knew was that the devil himself would have to drag him out of that house tonight-that was the only way he was leaving.

"Thanks, Jax," she whispered.

"No problem, babe," he smiled gently. "Now, let's get you home, alright?"

* * *

**A/N-Well, how's that for plot development, huh? Hopefully, I was able to convey everything I'd pictured in my head-there was a lot going on, I know, but I'm satisfied with how it all turned out. And don't worry, the next chapter will pick up right where this one left off for anyone wanting to see what happens when Jax takes Isabelle home. Maybe some snuggling? I don't know...just a thought. Anyways, they have a lot of ground to cover and now that I actually have some real time, I am so excited to really get back into this story the way I want to. **

**I can't wait to hear what you thought of this-loved it/hated it, anything! Happy summer!**


	14. All I Want Is You

**A/N-This one's pretty long but when you get to the end, you'll see why I just couldn't cut it off. Oh, and everyone knows the rating, right? Okay, then. ;)**

* * *

The house was dark and eerily silent when Gemma dropped them off. As Jax pushed the unlocked door open, he kept his hand firmly around Isabelle's waist to ensure that she was still next to him. He could already tell the stairs were going to be a problem because she was wobbling unsteadily on both feet and they were still just in the hallway. With his options being either to scoop her up and carry her or shuffle her up the stairs with both hands around her waist, he decided to choose the lesser of the two evils. Carrying her up the stairs just felt too...intimate. There was a line and he was already toeing the damn thing by kissing her at the hospital. The last thing he wanted to do right now was take advantage of her when she was at her most vulnerable. What he needed to do right now was just be there for her, in any way he could do anything she needed.

By the time he had her up the stairs, her head kept lolling backward and he immediately flew into damage control. Gently shaking her shoulders, her eyes fluttered back open.

"Hey, Iz," he murmured softly. "I can't let you sleep just yet; you gotta stay awake a little bit longer for me, okay?"

Her head dipped down in the affirmative and she mumbled something inaudibly. He figured that was the best he was going to get at the moment and grinned down at her, despite the fact that she probably would barely even see it. Not like he could blame her-sleep wasn't really going to be an option for him tonight and he wasn't even the one who'd just been through hell and back.

When he pushed through her bedroom door, she groaned with relief at the sight of her bed. Smiling into her hair, he eased her down on the bed and kept his hands gently on her shoulders to steady her. He glanced around nervously, not sure what he was supposed to do next. All he had to go on right now was instructions from Isabelle's doctor but that was it. Gemma had abandoned him at the doorstep and taken off with that smug expression he knew far too well. She could've at least given him some advice-anything-to help him out now.

He figured Isabelle tugging nervously on her blood-stained tank top was a sign. Pajamas or, at the very least, a change of clothes, was necessary.

"Need some pajamas, Iz?"

"Mm...hmm," she murmured hoarsely and that was good enough for him.

Biting his lip, he quickly scanned the dark room. While he'd been in her bedroom a few times before, he'd never really taken stock of the actual room itself. The closet was behind him and there was a dresser against the wall across from the bed...neither one of those options were very appealing. Rifling through her personal stuff felt like an obscene invasion of her privacy, especially given the circumstances. Thankfully, he spotted a pair of shorts and a few shirts on the floor on the other side of her bed. He carefully scooped them up and gingerly handed them over to her.

"Here you go...I'll just step outside while you change unless you need some help or somethin'..."

He wanted to punch himself in the face. Asking if she needed help? What the fuck was that? That was the sort of thing he might say to a shit-faced chick he wanted to bang and definitely not to the one girl he would never want to take advantage of. He hadn't meant it the way it sounded and wondered if he was going to do anything right tonight.

"I think I'm just gonna go to the bathroom; wash my face...I'll change in there, okay?" Her soft voice floated around him.

"Okay, sure," he rubbed his hands anxiously against his jeans. "I'll just...uh, I'll just wait here."

When she stood up, he quickly leapt to his feet in case she needed up but she swatted his hands aside, some of that playfulness he loved about her so much shining through.

"I'm okay, Jax," she told him. "Really, I am. I just need to sleep."

"Yeah, yeah...right," he exhaled. If he didn't know her better, it would've been much harder to believe that she was the one comforting him right now. In spite of everything that had happened to her tonight, she was still trying to reassure him that everything was going to be okay now. It made his heart ache just as much as it made him want to punch himself again.

About ten minutes later, she shuffled back into the room, holding her injured hand protectively against her stomach-this time, he noticed, she was walking a little bit steadier. He hastily scrambled off the bed so he could pull back the covers for her and she didn't hesitate to collapse into her pillow.

"I gotta wake you up in three hours to give you some more Tylenol and some water, okay? I'm just gonna crash on the couch if you need somethin' but you really need to get some sleep, alright?"

"Okay, Jax," she nodded.

Unable to stop himself, he bent down a little bit lower to press a quick kiss onto her forehead. He needed to give her something, anything...and this was the best he could do right now. When he straightened up and turned to head out of the room, her uninjured hand reached to entwine with his.

"Thanks, Jax," she called out to him quietly.

"Don't mention it, Iz," he called back before closing the door behind him.

After padding down the stairs, careful to sidestep the dried blood sprinkled on the carpet, he stopped in front of the couch, figuring this was a good a choice as any. It was only 7:00 at night and he had three hours to kill-watching TV was his best bet right about now. He quickly unbuttoned his work shirt, threw it off to the side, and settled back onto the couch. After flipping through the channels, he settled on a Pawn Stars marathon before realizing that there was still an epic mess in the kitchen.

Figuring he'd have to go in there anyways to get Isabelle some water, he decided that his time would be much better spent cleaning up. Armed with a mop and a broom, he made quick work of sweeping up all the glass and then washed away any traces of blood from the floor. Based off of the trail, he could clearly see exactly where and what had happened. The glass had been broken on the counter right next to the table-Isabelle must have been standing by the table because there was a smattering of blood about a foot away, which must have been where she slipped and hit her head.

The whole thing just didn't sit well with him...sure, he'd had to clean up his fair share of blood before but this was something different. This hadn't happened because club business had gone south. In some fucked up way, this was almost worse than when the club had to come clean up because this had happened in a normal home in a normal neighborhood. It had nothing to do with guns or club rivalry or settling old scores. It was just painful, everyday shit. And the fact that it had happened in Isabelle's home, the one place where she was supposed to feel safe, made him want to take one of the chairs and throw it through the patio door.

Anger was the only real response he was equipped with and that just made him feel even more helpless. Anger wouldn't solve this problem and it definitely wouldn't make this better for Isabelle anytime soon. But, fuck, he wanted to hop on his bike and break down whatever door separated him and Isabelle's dad and strangle the motherfucker until he turned blue.

Not like that would help Isabelle all that much.

Once he was satisfied with the state of the kitchen, he slumped back down on the couch, carefully setting an alarm on his phone for 10:00 just in case he drifted off. On a normal day, he would stay up past midnight and still be sort of functioning the next day but this wasn't a normal day. His entire body felt heavy and the only real explanation for that was the near heart attack he'd received a few hours ago.

Just as he'd settled into the Pawn Stars marathon and was watching Rick make a deal on a sweet vintage Harley, his pre-pay buzzed on top of the coffee table. Jerking up in a panic, his arm swiped the phone up to see the caller ID.

Exhaling more from exhaustion rather than relief, he flipped it open. "Hey, Ma."

"Hi baby," his mother's voice, which was normally had a way of stressing him out, was surprisingly soothing. "I just wanted to see how you're doin', see if you needed anything."

"Isabelle's sleeping right now; I have to wake her up at 10:00."

"I know, baby, but how are you doin' with all this?"

He sighed again and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I don't know...I'm just not sure if I'm doin' anything right here. I don't know how to help her, Mom."

"Just keep doin' what you're doin', Jax. You're doin' everything right-you really are."

"Well, it doesn't really feel like it."

"I know, baby," Gemma replied reassuringly. "And I know it's hard watching someone you care about go through somethin' like that. But you've handled everything perfectly...I'm really proud of you, Jax. You took care of everything-you took care of Isabelle; now all you can do is just be there, baby. Just be there and if she needs somethin', she'll ask for it and then you give it to her."

That was actually pretty good advice. Maybe that was the best he could do-just do what he was doing and give her whatever she needed.

"Maybe you should try to get some sleep before 10," his mother went on. "You sound real tired, Jax."

"Yeah," he exhaled. "Maybe you're right."

"I always am," he could hear the smile in her voice and felt himself relax a little. "Tell Isabelle I'm giving her next week off, alright? And, Jax, call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Got it, Ma."

"Love you, baby."

"Love you too, Ma."

He flipped the phone shut and set it back on the coffee table to settle back into the couch. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of tanned long legs as they ambled down the stairs. On reflex, he shot up off the couch and didn't stop until he skidded to the bottom.

"Iz? What are you doin' up?" His hands shot out to steady her and even though he could already tell she didn't need his help at the moment, he couldn't stop himself from touching her.

Her grip on the railing tightened and his own grip on her waist instinctively tightened in response. She was standing a few steps above him and as he looked up at her, all he could see was smooth, toned legs. Her left arm rested protectively against her chest, which unintentionally drew his attention directly to the spot he'd been avoiding. From his vantage point, he was standing almost exactly eye level with her chest and, almost as if she could feel his eyes on her, she shifted nervously, straining the fabric against her bare skin. She wasn't wearing a bra. Fuck.

Swallowing tightly and determined to shake any thoughts of what was under her shirt out of his mind, he took a careful step up on the stairs. "Everything okay?"

She shook her head slowly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"I don't wanna be alone, Jax," she whispered.

He nodded quickly, not needing an explanation. If he were her, he'd be feeling the exact same way. However, this would require close proximity to her and he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep himself in check for any real length of time. With a deep breath, he started up the stairs, keeping his hand on the small of her back. At this point, it wasn't so much that he felt she might need the physical support, it was more so that he just needed to touch her. This was going to be a long fucking night.

When they were standing at the foot of her bed, he found himself rubbing sweaty palms over the front of his jeans. She had already crawled in on one side and pushed aside the covers on the other side to make room for him. This exact scenario had happened countless times for him; half the time, they didn't even bother going in between the sheets at all. But this was the first time where the usual business in the bedroom wasn't going to fly. It couldn't be like that with her, not now, and definitely not tonight.

As she settled into her pillow, her tired eyes shining up at him expectantly, and he knew he'd never be able to deny this girl anything. So with a deep breath, he quickly unbuckled the belt on his grease-stained work jeans and then tossed them onto the floor. Now that he'd officially boarded the crazy train, he figured he'd might as well be comfortable and slipped his undershirt off too. Standing only in his boxers by the side of the bed, his mouth twisted ruefully as her eyes widened. That restored some of the resolve he needed to finally slide into the bed next to her.

His arm wound around her neck and she scooted closer to him until her head rested comfortably on his bare chest. As much as he hated himself for it, he couldn't stop his fingers from ghosting up the back of her loose shirt. The intoxicating sensation of her soft, smooth skin forced his eyes shut and all he could do was just bring her closer until it seemed like every limb was entwined with another one.

"You're okay, babe," he murmured into her hair. "I got you."

Her face tilted back and he brushed away the hair that had fallen across her cheek. He could feel her trembling underneath his touch and pulled her flush against his chest, frowning down at her with worry.

"He wasn't trying to hurt me, Jax; he was trying to hurt himself," she whispered up at him.

He nodded down at her and cupped her cheek to brush his lips carefully against her soft ones. There wasn't any room to berate himself for kissing her, for touching her, and for getting into her bed. At the moment, his only real concern was her and all he really wanted to do was be there.

"What happened, babe?"

Their faces were level against the pillows and he tucked some hair behind her ear to give her the time she needed to gather up whatever thoughts were currently storming around in her head. She really should be resting right now but...he couldn't exactly argue with their current arrangement.

"He got sent home from work," she started softly and he squeezed her a little bit more tightly to let her know he was still here with her. "He had to have lost his job today...he was just sitting at the table, staring into space and I've never seen him so...empty. He just looked dead, you know? And normally he never says anything to me whenever he's that far gone but he just started saying that my mom had never been happy with him and all he'd wanted to do was make her happy."

Her voice shook and in the darkness, it took him a moment to realize that she was crying now too. He instinctively brought the hand he'd slipped under the back of her shirt up to her cheek to brush away her tears with his thumb.

"I tried to tell him that she was happy," she went on softly. "And he just said the only reason she stayed was because of me. And then he had some glass in his hand and he was trying to slice open his wrist."

"You can't blame yourself for any of this, Iz; this didn't really have anything to do with you."

"I know," she nodded underneath his hand. "I know, Jax...but I never knew. I never knew they had problems...they did a really good job of hiding it."

"All couples have problems," he offered as he ran his hand soothingly down her hair. "And I think your dad's memory might be a little sketchy anyways."

She shocked him by laughing softly and sliding her good hand across his bare stomach. His breath caught in his throat at the friction and, in a knee-jerk reaction, had to shift his hips away from her so she couldn't feel just how much he'd reacted. It was one thing to touch her because at the very least, he could control how much he touched and for how long...but her touch, her warm fingers splaying across his stomach made his skin jerk taut and there was no telling how long he was going to be able to keep his shit together.

When he finally felt like he'd regained his bearings and shifted his eyes back to her, he found her looking back at him with the hooded, sweetly beckoning blue eyes that he'd always known somehow would be his undoing. And then it was all over.

His left arm snaked around her waist to gently bring her closer and then he was leaning in to press a soft kiss into her lips. His lips lingered against hers for a moment to test the waters and when he felt the warm hand on his stomach glide up his chest, he took that as his sign to try again. His hand was in her hair now and he gingerly kissed her a second time, afraid that she would either break beneath his fingertips or push him away. But she didn't do either of those things. Instead, her breath came out in a rush and then her lips parted ever so slightly, silently pleading with him not to stop. She leaned back into him, moving her hand to his back to bring him in even closer. Knowing he was already past the point of no return, he slid his tongue through her parted lips and almost completely lost it when she moaned softly against his lips.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, there was a voice telling him that the girl in his arms had just suffered a mild concussion and this was definitely not what her doctor had instructed him to do. Fuck that doctor.

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion for him-the hand in her hair somehow found its way down her back and up her shirt, sliding around her hip and loving the feel of every new inch of skin he discovered. She pressed her hips into him and he stifled a groan into her lips. It took all of his remaining willpower not to whip her shirt over her head-instead, his hand closed around the curve of her ass just to bring her as close to the bulge in his pants as possible. As his tongue massaged hers and his fingers drifted dangerously to the waistband of her flimsy shorts, he felt himself edging closer and closer to the precipice.

She sighed against his lips when his fingers dipped inside the top of her lacy underwear and he knew if he didn't reign himself in now, there would be no stopping himself from sinking even deeper. He had to stop. She had to rest and he couldn't allow himself to basically take advantage of her when she was at her most vulnerable. It didn't matter that she was kissing him back, that even now, she was still grinding her hips against his hard-on and moaning into his ear. He had to stop because it couldn't happen like this. She deserved better. She deserved more.

Although every part of him was screaming, he gently pulled away and pressed a gentle kiss into her forehead. She was breathless and trembling against him-and he knew that couldn't be good for her recovery. His first concern right now needed to be her well-being and even though he was sure she'd probably say otherwise at the moment, what she really needed to do was sleep. At least until he was supposed to wake her up for painkillers and water.

"Get some rest, babe," he murmured against her forehead as he shifted the rest of her against his chest.

"I like when you call me that," she whispered dreamily, her eyes fluttering as she snuggled into his shoulder.

He grinned down at her-he hadn't even realized he was doing it but there was something about it that felt natural.

"I'll wake you up in a little bit, okay?"

When she nodded into his shoulder, he shifted himself a little so she could rest more comfortably against him. He had no intention of letting go of her tonight, especially when he had no idea what tomorrow would bring.

The longer he laid there with Isabelle curled up under his arm, the more he felt like an asshole. If he was being completely honest with himself, it wasn't difficult to reconcile that there had been plenty of times he'd fantasized what it would feel like to do everything they'd just done and more-what it would feel like to have her long, toned legs wrapped around his waist, what it would feel like to bury himself inside her, what it would feel like to hear her scream over and over again and God, he really wanted to know what she looked like when she came-but he hadn't wanted it to happen like this.

He should've just held her and brushed away her tears. That should've been it but he just couldn't fucking help himself. She was too sweet, looking up at him with those wide eyes he could get lost in so easily and too goddamn gorgeous and he'd known he was a goner the second she crawled into bed. What he needed to do now was give her the space she needed to figure all this shit out with her dad first. He hadn't gotten much information about him at the hospital but he could assume that that would be another headache of a different kind for her altogether. Not to mention the fact that she was still nursing a mild concussion and stitches in her left hand.

Thank God she was right-handed.

When he'd sped off on his bike to get to her before, that had been one of the first thoughts crashing through his mind. He hadn't let himself think about the blood or how it had happened but he'd hoped and prayed that it had been her left hand, not her right. Any sort of hand injury would hinder her ability to sketch and the byproducts of that could potentially be devastating to her.

And in addition to everything else she was going to have to deal with in the morning, he didn't want her to have to worry about what had just happened between them. It would be awkward but he could make it quick and painless because, frankly, if all he could do to help her was feel her up, that wasn't really saying much for him as a potential...something for her. She deserved so much more than that and he'd be the first to admit that he was barely keeping his head above water with her. She was so goddamn strong...but a person could only take so much. He wasn't good for her. Fuck, he was barely good for anyone anymore. And if things went any further with her, at some point, she'd regret every second of it.

Because somewhere between puking his guts out all over her high heels, to lunches with her at T-M, to movie nights on her couch, to being scared out of his mind for her today, he'd fallen head over ass for her. And because he knew himself well enough, given his past history with women, to know that he'd never be able to do or say what she needed, he knew the the next best thing he could do for her was just to give her some space. Be her friend and be there for her. But keep his distance.

* * *

Isabelle's eyes fluttered open and she was immediately assaulted by the soreness at the back of her skull. It wasn't exactly pounding like she'd expected but it hurt nonetheless and her stitched-up hand was throbbing at her side. Rubbing her good hand across her face, a sly grin crossed her lips as the events of her night in bed with Jax came flooding back to her. What had been one of the worst, most terrifying days of her life had quickly turned into easily the best night of her life. Even though he'd been tender and gentle with her, every touch, every movement of his rough fingertips had brought her closer and closer to the edge of oblivion.

When his fingers dipped inside her panties, she thought she might die if he didn't go any lower. Just the feel of his calloused fingertips running along her most sensitive area of skin almost sent her over the edge. She hadn't even been embarrassed when he had her trembling and panting in his arms. And while she'd understood when he'd pulled away to let her get some sleep, the rest of her wanted to scream at him not to stop.

On some level, she appreciated what he was trying to do. She got that he was holding back a little because of everything that had happened the day before and she knew it was coming purely from a place that was concerned for her well-being. Maybe she should've just told him that he was giving her exactly what she needed to feel better. And then some.

Maybe then he wouldn't have stopped.

With that thought propelling her out of her bed, she padded lightly down the stairs, warily eyeing the tiny droplets of dried blood on the carpeting and found Jax rummaging around in the refrigerator. It only took her a moment to realize that the mess she'd left behind here was now completely spotless and it also didn't take a genius to figure out who was responsible for that. Now, she just wanted to kiss him again.

He cast her a sideways glance from where he was crouched down and when he grinned at her, that sexy smirk that upended her insides, she felt it right in between her legs.

"Morning, Iz," he called out to her as he went back to searching the shelves of the refrigerator.

"Hey, Jax," she replied a little too quickly and slid into a chair at the table.

"I'm just tryin' to find us somethin' to eat-so I guess our choices are fruit, cereal, or eggs...any preferences?"

She had to bite her lip at the gesture because she hadn't asked him to do any of this for her. But he'd done it anyways. And she just wanted to kiss him again.

"Um...cereal's fine."

Despite the fact that they'd essentially made out in her bed like horny teenagers the night before, it was a little unsettling to see him in her kitchen, pouring her a bowl of cereal. He set the bowl and a spoon in front of her before taking a seat directly across from her at the table. They ate in awkward silence for a few moments until the quiet abruptly came to a halt when he cleared his throat and set his spoon down.

"Hey, uh, Iz," he started a little unsteadily, jerking a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. "Look, I'm sorry things got a little out of hand last night...I shouldn't have let it go that far. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that and...well, I'm sorry."

Her spoon almost toppled out from between her fingers. Wait...what? Her mouth opened up to speak but she couldn't find the words to come up with some sort of response to that. It was the complete opposite of how she'd read everything last night. He thought he'd taken advantage of her? He was sorry? She'd had the best night of her life and he was sorry?

She had no idea what to say to that.

Instead of stammering like a fool, she was somehow able to croak out: "Okay."

The relief that passed over his face was like a sucker punch to the gut. It was obvious he regretted everything and with her options being either to stay at the kitchen table for a painful breakfast or cowardly retreating back to her bedroom, she choose the lesser of the two evils. After all, this was still her house and she was hungry.

The next few days weren't any better. Jax dutifully came over on Sunday and Monday in between the ever-revolving door of visitors. By Monday night, Gemma, Becca, Donna, and Opie had all been over to 'make sure she was alright'. Physically, she was fine. Or she would be fine. Her headache was almost non-existent at this point and while her stitches couldn't come out for another week or so, they weren't throbbing quite as bad as they were that first morning after.

Her emotional state, however, was a different story.

For starters, her dad had voluntarily checked into a rehab facility for alcohol abuse and depression on Monday shortly after completing the 48-hour psych evaluation. While the end result wasn't exactly a surprise, the fact that he'd actually acknowledged that he'd gone too far and was actively seeking help had really set off the waterworks. From a practical standpoint, it was the best news she could've gotten. But emotionally, it was just one more reminder how close she'd come to losing the only parent she had left. She hadn't yet allowed herself to consider what might have happened if she hadn't forgotten her phone charger and stopped at home. The reality of what could've been was far too painful and scary to think about.

To make matters worse, Jax was all but freezing her out. Sure he was here for her but he was sleeping on the couch. That wasn't what she wanted, though. She wanted him back in her bed. She wanted him but he was trying to pretend like nothing had happened between them. But something had happened and she _knew_ he'd felt it too.

There'd always been something between them and if she was being completely honest with herself, it had probably even started when they were in high school. He'd never been short on excuses to send some sort of comment her way-especially whenever she had to wear her cheerleading uniform to school-and she'd always known that deep down, those comments had infuriated her because she secretly liked it. When they sat next to each other in American Lit. class together, the one thing she'd always been able to count on from him was his low whistle whenever she sat down. There'd always been a palpable electrical charge between them, bristling in the air whenever they were close enough. It was like she was always hyper-aware of him when he was in the room, like she could feel his presence before even making eye contact with him. She knew now that they'd been circling each other ever since she'd started working at T-M. Up until the night they'd spent together in her bedroom, she'd always just chosen to ignore it.

She couldn't ignore it anymore.

And it wasn't just the physical connection she wanted from him because the emotional one was there too. Although it had taken longer to get to, Jax Teller was the best friend she'd ever had. Ever since she'd started working at T-M, she'd quickly realized that all her preconceived notions about him needed to be tossed out the window. Sure, he was cocky, a little self-absorbed, and it was no secret that he'd had more than his fair share of conquests-but she didn't want to be just another notch on his bedpost, so to speak.

No...he was more than the cocky, panty-chasing, rough around the edges biker persona he wore so well. He'd come through for her more than anyone else in her life combined. He'd stepped into the tornado that was her life and shrugged off the debris like it was nothing. He'd shouldered the burden of her father with her and had literally forced her into realizing she couldn't carry it all by herself anymore. He'd made her realize that she'd needed help. He'd defended her and protected her-hell, he'd even almost gotten into a bar brawl for her. And in the process, he'd become the one person in her life she couldn't live without.

So having him this way now, with him keeping her at arms length and barely even touching her if he could help it, was beyond painful. She needed him and not just physically-she needed all of him because somehow, he'd become her partner in all this. Somehow, he made her whole.

That last thought had her skidding to a stop. It was awfully similar to something her mom used to say about love. Her mom had told her once, long before she'd ever gotten sick and before she'd left for college, that love was like a puzzle. While the individual pieces themselves might not seem like part of the puzzle, it was about making all this pieces fit.. It was about what made you feel like you. It was about what made you feel whole.

Holy shit...was that was this was? This gut-wrenching, all-encompassing feeling like she might combust right now...that was love? As she looked at herself in the mirror now, looking for some sign of change within her, she knew, without having to look that far, that the answer was simple. That was absolutely what this was. This was love. She was in love with Jax Teller.

There was nothing about it that scared her. In fact, she was completely at peace with it. The truth of it reverberated from deep within her and it felt like a giant weight had been lifted off her shoulders. So this was what she'd been fighting for so long-this was what she'd forced herself not to see.

And she knew instinctively that Jax was wrestling with these same feelings too, even if he wasn't quite ready to admit it to the level she was. Everything he'd ever done for her flashed through her mind: lunches at T-M, forcing her to call him so he could help her with her dad, getting Opie to help when he was gone on the run, texting her when he was on the run, coming over to her house after the run when he could've easily spent the night at the clubhouse, every time he'd ever found an excuse to touch her, to talk to her, to call her, and finally, the way he'd dropped everything on Saturday to get to her when she needed him the most. All of that ran deeper than simple friendship and on some level, he had to know it too. Even the night they'd spent in her bed, he'd been gentle and sweet to her. If he'd truly been taking advantage of her that night, he wouldn't have stopped. That alone told her that he cared enough about her to pull back, to slow down, and do what he thought was best for her, even if he was leaving her trembling and panting underneath him.

Maybe he was just scared. Given the way his last relationship ended, she couldn't blame him for being apprehensive of starting something new. Tara had really done a number on him and...oh God. Today was Tuesday...which meant that in exactly three days, Jax's ex, the one who'd ripped his heart out and stomped on it all the way to Chicago, was going to be back in Charming for Donna's bridal/baby shower on Friday and then the wedding on Saturday.

Suddenly, as she gripped the bathroom counter, she could see with sharp clarity what she needed to do. If there was even a chance that Jax felt even a little of what she was feeling right now, she needed to know before Friday. She needed to know if a relationship with him was even an option before Tara came back into town. If they didn't have that conversation before Friday, she might as well just forget everything else. She needed to know that there was something worth fighting for. She needed to know that if it came down to it, there was a possibility he could still choose her when faced with Tara for the first time since she left for Chicago.

Since she'd left Stanford and come home to Charming, she'd been searching for something. She'd wanted to take control over her life and to start figuring out what she wanted, to start living her life the way she wanted-not because someone else wanted her to. Now the chance was right in front her. All she had to do was take hold of the reigns. It couldn't be a coincidence that the first time she'd really made a grab for control was when she'd applied for art school and Jax had been the one in her corner, encouraging her every step of the way. That had to mean something. Maybe he was part of that something.

Really, it was now or never. She could sit on her hands and watch Tara sink her claws back into Jax or she could be proactive. There was no doubt in her mind that the second Tara saw Jax again, she would realize the epic mistake she'd made, if she didn't already. And she'd be an idiot to think that he wouldn't at least consider it if Tara threw herself at him at any point this weekend. The only way she'd even have a shot with Jax was if she played her only hand first. Because if she didn't, odds were she would lose him this weekend anyways, regardless if they were still friends or not and there was no time to ruminate about what losing him might mean for her.

If she wanted him, she'd have to go get him.

* * *

As Isabelle sauntered up to the clubhouse, teetering just a little on the heels she'd had to dig out of her closet, her resolve wavered for only a moment. It wasn't too late to turn back...she knew Jax was in the clubhouse; his bike was here and his shift at T-M was over. He was probably nursing a beer at the bar with whoever was in there and if she turned around, got back into her car and left, no one would ever be the wiser.

Looking down to smooth the invisible crease in her stretchy skirt, the confidence she needed right now to continue forward surged back with a vengeance and that was all the push she needed. She had taken a good hour in front of her bathroom mirror to ensure that Jax would take her seriously the second she stepped foot inside the clubhouse. While she was careful to keep herself from even slightly resembling the girls she'd seen throw themselves at him before, she also wanted him to drool a little bit. She wanted his immediate attention.

Dressed in a form-fitting black skirt that flared out mid-thigh, she was very satisfied with the amount of leg she was showing. Paired with a loose teal tank top that she'd tucked into her skirt and black stilettos, she looked anything but trashy, like she'd seen time and again filter through the clubhouse. She'd also been very careful with her makeup too, wearing just enough to give her come-hither bedroom eyes, but not enough to be cake-like or over the top. Classy sexy, as Becca called it, was the perfect contrast to what Jax was used to seeing. She wasn't about to allow him to treat her like any of the random girls who'd come before her but...that didn't mean she also didn't want him panting with anticipation on sight. She knew she looked good today and that alone gave her the adrenaline rush of confidence she needed to power forward.

Now the clubhouse felt like a beacon, pulling her in faster and faster. Her heart thundered in her chest, combatting with the butterflies currently using her stomach as a trampoline, as she pushed through the clubhouse doors. It was just as empty as she'd hoped, with just a few hang-arounds playing pool and a few cuts she recognized at the bar. When she caught sight of Jax boxed in between Chibs and Tig, her heart just about stopped altogether. With a deep breath in and out, she pressed forward, knowing that in about two seconds, the click of her heels against the floor was going to get the attention of the bar. There was no going back now. She'd set her path and she wasn't going to just give up without a fight. And if it all blew up in her face and she left the clubhouse crying in a few minutes, there wouldn't be much of an audience to see it. And at least she could say she tried.

She'd barely rounded the corner when she heard a low whistle from the pool table and then Tig turned his head at the noise, his eyebrows flew up into his head. That motion gave her clear view of Jax, who was currently leaning against the bar as he took a deep pull from the cigarette in between his fingertips. His eyes flickered over to her for a split second, then back to the bar. Then his eyes slammed back to her, widening, and then flashing darkly as they skimmed over her, taking stock of her body and her appearance. He clearly liked what he saw.

The glint in his eyes as she approached him should've made her nervous. But instead, she felt almost powerful at his immediate reaction. She'd wanted his attention and now she had it.

He quickly mashed his cigarette into a nearby ashtray and then turned to face her with quick, staccato motions. Suddenly, he looked a little anxious at her appearance and his eyes hardened dangerously at something over her head. When she turned a little, it was obvious what was happening here. One of the hang-arounds at the pool table had his eyes glued to her ass and Jax was silently warning him, no...threatening him, to keep his eyes to himself. The hang-around was attempting to eye-fuck her and Jax wasn't happy about it. There was something possessive in his eyes when his icy blue gaze shifted back down to her that sent shivers down her spine. Her mouth twisted up when he swallowed tightly before setting his beer down to take a careful step towards her.

"Hey, Iz," he pushed out roughly, shoving his hands deep into his front pockets.

"Hey, Jax," she practically purred back to him, making his eyes widen slightly. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

His eyebrows crinkled into a tentative frown and he appraised her carefully before casting a quick glance at Chibs, who just shrugged with a grin.

"Jesus, what the fuck are you waitin' for?" Tig was hollering now. "If you don't go with her, I will, goddammit."

That was all it took to force Jax springing into action and he hastily took her by the elbow to lead her down the dark hallway that led to his dorm room. This was it. This was where it either ended or where it began. No going back now.

"Sorry about those assholes," he chuckled anxiously as they ambled closer to his doorway. "Sometimes I wonder if they'd even know what a real woman looked like if one slapped them in the face."

Her lips curved into a sly smile at that comment and that only stroked the confidence coursing through her. From the moment he saw her, she'd gotten the reaction she was hoping for. That was nothing if not a sign to press on.

"You, uh...you look real nice today, Iz," he was saying now as he turned the knob to the entrance of his dorm room.

It was right on the tip of her tongue to say something like, _oh, I was just sick of being in my pajamas all day,_ but decided to just own it.

"Thanks," she replied coolly, stepping through the threshold as he held the door open for her to pass by him.

When he shut the door behind him, her heart skidded to a halt in her chest. This was it. This was the moment where she finally took the reigns of her life and steered it in the direction she wanted. Even if this didn't go the way she hoped, at least she take consolation in the fact that for the first time in her life, she was actively going after something she wanted.

And suddenly, as she stalked towards him and he backed up until his heels hit the door behind him, his eyes widening in surprise, she felt powerful. She felt like, even if just for a second, maybe she could fit inside his world. Maybe she could be what he needed too. For the next few moments, she was the one in control here.

She leaned into him, reaching out her uninjured hand to glide up his chest, and pressed a careful, soft kiss into his lips. Even though he stiffened under her touch, a warm hand still closed over her hip and she stepped in even closer until her body was pressed flush against him. The hand on his chest wound itself around his neck, fisting into his hair to draw his head down to her, and then she kissed him again with all the pent-up energy bouncing through her.

"You don't want this, Iz," he growled against her lips. "Not with me."

Both hands were on her hips now to gently push her away but she wasn't having it. Not yet. She had him cornered and he was going to have to listen to everything she had to say whether he liked it or not.

"Don't tell me what I want, Jax," she whispered back. "I know what I want. And all I want is you."

His eyes flashed darkly and she was acutely aware that the grip on her hips had tightened. His breath sucked in haggardly and his Adam's apple bobbed anxiously in his throat.

"Why?" He demanded hoarsely.

That was a good a question as any and she considered her next words carefully. The one thing she couldn't say was that she loved him. At least not yet. He wasn't ready to hear that yet and she also wasn't so sure she was ready to say it. But that didn't mean that she couldn't still lay it all out on the line. After all, that was what she'd come here to do.

"Because I trust you," she started slowly, watching for any reaction. His chest was practically heaving against his leather cut and it remained to be seen if that was good or bad.

"I'd trust you with my life, Jax," she went on. "And honestly? You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

He huffed a little at that and she narrowed her eyes right back at him.

"I don't deserve that, Isabelle," he practically spat. "And I sure as hell don't deserve you comin' up in here like this."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She couldn't believe her ears. "What are you talking about? If this is about you thinking you took advantage of me the other night, you're wrong. That was the fucking opposite of being taken advantage of, Jax, because I didn't want you to stop."

He stilled at her words and just when she thought he couldn't tighten his grip anymore, he fisted his hands into her tank top to pull just a hair closer to him. That only propelled her further.

She brazenly stepped into him, feeling another surge of power rush over her. "I've got you figured out, Teller, and you don't scare me. I know you're probably thinking you wouldn't know the first thing about how to be in a relationship again but you're wrong there, too. I've got news for you, Jax-I think we've been in a relationship this whole time...we just didn't know it. We've been fucking gravitating toward each other since I came home. And you know what? I love that you're my best friend, I love that you seem to know exactly what I'm thinking, I love that you stepped up with all that shit with my dad, and I love that when I needed you the most, you didn't hesitate to drop everything and get to me and I love that I know you'd do that again for me if you had to."

She paused for a moment to gauge his reaction and found him regarding her with heavily guarded eyes. So, it looked like he was going to play this one close to the chest. Well, two could play at that game.

"When I'm with you, Jax," she lifted her shoulders in an almost desperate shrug. Desperate for him to see what she saw. Desperate for him to know what she knew. "When I'm with you, everything else just goes away. You're the best person I know, Jax, and when I'm with you, you make me feel like me. You make me feel whole."

She heard his breath hitch in his throat and powered on. She wasn't giving up without a fight and she had one more card to play. Leaning forward, she pressed a rough, passionate kiss onto his lips, praying they would start to move with her.

"Tell me you don't feel what I'm feeling," she whispered against his lips before kissing him one more time. "Tell me you don't want me as much as I want you."

He growled lowly in her ear, then she felt herself being whirled around so that his body had her pinned against his door. His hand pressed up against the door on one side of her hand and the other slid down until it roughly curved around her ass to bring her against the slightly alarming hardness in his jeans. He leaned down to assault her neck with his mouth, slipping his tongue up and down just enough to make her shiver into his hands.

"It's not gonna be easy, Iz," he murmured hoarsely against her skin.

"I know," she whispered.

He lifted his lips from her neck so he could tilt his head back to see her more clearly. His eyes were cloudy and mirrored everything she was feeling and she just wanted to collapse in a puddle at his feet. He'd been holding back last Saturday night, bracing himself over her, being careful with her, and although he'd had his reasons, she hoped he would decide that enough was finally enough.

"I don't know if I can make you any promises," he exhaled quietly, his eyes searching for the answer he needed. While she didn't know everything that his world entailed, she could learn and she was willing to try. And so, it seemed, was he. That was all the confirmation she needed.

"I know."

With that, he groaned against her skin, found her lips, and pushed his tongue through her parted lips. Rough fingertips splayed over her bare thigh until he lifted it just enough to hoist around his hip. Not wasting another moment, those same rough fingertips crept underneath her skirt to find the lacy, thin strip of fabric separating her bare skin from his fingers.

"Oh my God," he groaned again with a shudder. "You're gonna kill me, babe."

"That was the plan," she grinned victoriously into his lips and was about to speak when the words died in her throat. He watched her with dark, heavily hooded eyes, his lips curving into a sly smirk as the hand underneath her skirt skimmed over her ass, shoving aside the flimsy material, and expertly found its way to the most sensitive part of her body.

Sensing that the tables had turned, she leaned her head back against the door and gladly turned over the control. This was exactly what she'd wanted Saturday night. She'd wanted him to own her, to claim her, and he was going to do it right up against the door of his dorm room.

"Hold on, babe," he murmured against her cheek before kissing it gently. "I got you."

She nodded desperately, grabbing hold of the back of his neck for support while his index finger rubbed against her clit. Sucking in a haggard breath, everything else fell away as she floated along with the movement of his index finger. Then he added a second finger and more pressure and she thought she might shatter right there. It was right there, building at the base of her center, flaming out and spreading over her entire body. And then, just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, the two fingers currently sending her into oblivion, slipped inside her.

"Fuck," he grunted into her neck, his fingers working her with careful precision. "You're so goddamn wet. So fuckin' tight."

She didn't know how he was doing it but while two fingers pumped inside with mounting speed, his thumb pressed down on her clit at the same time. The pressure, combined with the fluttering inside her, sent her flying over the edge and the ensuing explosion rippled through her entire body. His free hand muffled the low moan that erupted from her lips and he grinned down at her with lustful pride.

"Yeah, that's right, babe," he murmured huskily into her ear. "Come for me."

Now she was flying as her body shattered under his hands; the tremors practically lifted her off the ground and she could've sworn her eyes rolled back in her head. It was almost too much-she almost couldn't take it and the intense wave of her release crashed her with full force. It felt like she was fire, like all the tension inside her finally snapped and she rode wave after wave of cascading pleasure until it lulled into tingling in between her thighs.

She barely had any time to recover before both hands closed around her hips to hoist her up. Instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist, she let herself be carried to his bed as her lips crashed back into his. When her back hit the mattress, there was no hesitation this time. He was hovering above her with that dark, dangerous glint in his eye that already made her shiver with anticipation.

He kissed her deeply, pushing his tongue around in her mouth, and groaning when his hands tugged mercilessly at her tank top. In a flash, it was up and over her head and unlike previous encounters with men, she had no desire to reach up and shyly cover herself from his view. Instead, she let him drink in as his eyes roamed appreciatively over the lacy bra she'd painstakingly chosen today. He leaned down to skim his lips over the top of her breasts and she almost cried out again when her nipples hardened, rubbing against the soft fabric of her bra. Then he abruptly pushed up on both hands so that his body hovered directly above her, just barely out of reach.

She moaned at the loss of his body and reached out to bring him back down again.

"Please, Jax," she panted breathlessly. "Don't stop..."

He shook his head roughly and winced when his pushed back until he rested above her on his knees.

"I know," he muttered darkly. "I know...but fuck, Iz, if we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it right. We gotta take it slow."

There were so many things that were both equally right and wrong with what he'd just said that she couldn't stifle her laugh.

"You call this taking it slow, Jax?"

He barked out a laugh and smirked sexily down at her with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. "I know...I kinda jumped the gun back there, didn't I?"

"I'm not complaining," she purred back.

He blew out an agitated breath and rubbed a hand against his face before leaning back against his feet. "We're gonna finish this, babe...trust me, but, right now, I gotta get out of this room before I completely lose my shit here."

She laughed again and sat up on her elbows, hoping he was getting a good eyeful right now. "So...what do you wanna do?"

"I don't care, Iz; just as long as I'm with you."

She bit down on her bottom lip as she stared up at him with wide eyes. She hadn't realized just how much she'd needed to hear that until the words finally left his lips. When he playfully tossed her shirt at her, she quickly pulled it back over her head and tucked it back into her skirt. Then he was gently pulling her up off the bed with him. His hands skimmed down the sides of her skirt to straighten it out a little more before swatting her playfully on the ass.

She made a mad dash for his bathroom and quickly wiped the mascara that had flaked under her eyes and finger-combed through her hair the best she could. A soft sigh blew out when his arms encircled her waist from behind her. This was where she wanted to be. This was what she needed, to feel safe and protected in his arms. To be his.

"Let's go, babe," he called out to her, reaching out a hand for her to take.

With their hands entwined, they stumbled out of his dorm room, probably looking just as rumbled and disheveled they felt. They walked side by side towards the front door, their hands still wrapped around each other, and she rested her bandaged hand against his forearm as she leaned into his shoulder, suddenly feeling a little shy about what they'd just done about twenty feet away from an audience.

Tig was still at the bar and his eyes flashed with unabashed pride, raising his beer bottle up to toast them. Jax didn't even really seem to notice because his attention was still sorely rested on her and her cheeks flushed red as his lips twisted into a smirk.

"Don't get all shy on me, now, babe," he murmured into her hair and made her shiver.

God, if this was what it was going to be like-to be with him-she didn't think she'd be able to last any real length of time without touching him. And luckily for her, it seemed he felt the exact same way as he pushed open the clubhouse's front door and held it out for her, his free hand skimming the small of her back to lead her out.

Then his hand clasped around hers again, bringing it up to his lips so he could brush his lips against her knuckles. Whatever happened from here, however long this lasted, she was going to savor every moment of it. Because she was addicted now and there was no going back.

* * *

**A/N-You guys have no idea how much fun this was to write! I know this was what we've all been waiting for and I thought about cutting the chapter off right after the second break before Isabelle goes to the clubhouse but I just couldn't do it. ****So now it's safe to say they've both acknowledged there's something between them, although Isabelle is much clearer about what exactly that something is than Jax is. Don't worry though. He'll get there. ;)**

**However, the next chapter will see the return of Tara for Donna's baby/bridal shower. Dun dun dun...haha! **

**Anyways, all your feedback has been amazing as usual and it really keeps me motivated to daydream about all the things I can do with Jax and Isabelle. That being said, I have some good news. I mentioned in a previous post that I'm planning a sequel and in the process of outlining that story, with where it has to end, there absolutely needs to be a third. I just love writing about them so much...how could I ever stop, right? ****  
**

**So let me know what you what you thought of this chapter. Any feedback will be much appreciated!**


	15. Into Thin Air

Jax paced anxiously outside T-M's garage, exhaling a puff of smoke through his nostrils before flicking the spent bud to the cement. There was no way he was going to let Isabelle see him smoking and she was going to be here in less than five minutes. His mouth twisted ruefully-he was most definitely going to find himself in this position more often, especially since he had every intention of spending as much time with that girl as possible.

Shit...he was going to have to just quit smoking altogether at some point. When Opie found out Donna was pregnant, they'd made a pact to try to quit smoking together, Opie to great success...him not so much. After about a week of trying cold turkey and failing miserably, he'd tried the gum and the patch but just couldn't kick it. So when the time came around again for him to attempt it a little more seriously...it was going to fucking suck.

But she was worth it.

As if on cue, his pre-pay buzzed in his back pocket and he had to bite his lip from grinning like a fucking idiot. He flipped the phone open to scan Isabelle's text:

_Hey, im running a little late. Be there asap. ;)_

He immediately pounded out a quick reply to tell her to take her time and he'd see her soon, and then shoved the phone back in his pocket. That little devil on his shoulder whispered he should light up another cigarette real quick before she got there but that also felt a little like sneaking another cookie before Mom came home from work. He shuddered a little at that thought...it was probably best just to preoccupy himself with something before Isabelle pulled into the lot.

It still felt a little surreal that they were really together, even though it hadn't even been a full 24 hours since Isabelle had sauntered into the clubhouse like sex on a stick and literally backed him into a wall. At first, just seeing her at the clubhouse was enough to throw him off his game, not to mention showing up there like every one of his fantasies personified. From the fuck-me heels, to that goddamn skirt, to those smoky eyes-all ability to speak had just completely evaporated. It wasn't like Isabelle wasn't sexy all the time...it was just that he was used to seeing her in jeans and a tank top. Legs and tits were his downfall and she'd played that card to a fucking T. He'd had no choice but to make a mad grab for her elbow, desperate to make some sort of move to claim her before someone else beat him to the punch.

And when she'd advanced on him with fire practically sparking from her eyes, he had to admit he'd been a little bit terrified. And turned on as hell.

But it was what she'd said to him-her voice almost shaking with determination-that had really cut him to the core. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. No one, save for Gemma, had ever told him he was a good person. Given his affiliation with the club and his legacy entwined with it, there wasn't much he'd done in his life that the average person would categorize as 'good'. But Isabelle wasn't the average person.

Somehow, she was able to look past the shitstorm she'd seen a few months ago and had found something worthwhile in him. At first, he been stunned into silence. The best that had ever happened to her? _He_ made _her_ feel whole? When Tara deserted him all those months ago, it felt like he'd died on the inside but Isabelle had brought him back to life. She'd sat with him, confided in him, depended on him, and had faith in him. There hadn't been much to work with but she hadn't given up on him. And he believed her when she'd said she trusted him with her life because he knew now, after last Saturday, that he'd rather cut off his own arm than let anything ever happen to her.

_She_ was the one that made _him_ feel whole. He'd probably be facedown in a gutter somewhere if it weren't for her. And hearing her lay it all out on the line like that had shocked him into realizing that every word of it was true. The fact that she saw something in him, something that had absolutely nothing to do with the cut he wore or any of the patches stitched into it, was almost too much to wrap his head around.

It made him want to sprint over to wherever she was right now, yank her out of her car, and kiss the shit out of her.

"Hey, Jax?" Gemma called out to him from the office's doorway. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Grateful for the distraction from keeping both eyes trained carefully on the parking lot, he shrugged in answer and headed for the office.

"What's up, Ma?"

"Just wanted to see if you can come in a little early on Friday and cover for one of the prospects."

There was something in her voice that didn't sound quite right. Something was up.

"Sure," he shrugged good-naturedly. Past experience had taught him just to let this play out. He'd been party to his mother's games enough to know when he was about to be manipulated. "What's goin' on?"

"The prospect's just gotta swing by the airport and pick Tara up for Donna's shower."

Ah. There it was. Now he knew exactly what this was: an ambush.

So he just shrugged again. "Sure-what time do you need me to come in?"

Gemma's dark eyes narrowed suspiciously and her arms folded covertly over her tattooed chest. "How about 10? The shower starts at 2:00 and Tara's flight rolls into Stockton at about 11:30."

"Not a problem," he shrugged again.

His mother appraised him with cold, calculating eyes, scanning his face for some sort of reaction that his ex-old lady was coming back to town. If she was looking for any distress or anxiousness, she wasn't going to find it.

"Okay..." Gemma started slowly, her black eyes still fixed into him. "So, that's it? Okay? That's all you have to say with Tara comin' back?"

"I honestly haven't really thought about it all that much," he shrugged again. "Too much goin' on, I guess."

"I'll say," his mother cocked an eyebrow at him. "Too much goin' on with Isabelle is more like it."

His eyebrows flew up in surprise-they'd spent the night at Isabelle's house and hadn't been back at the clubhouse together since. Not even a full day had passed...how the fuck did she-

"You really thought I didn't know, Jackson?" Gemma hitched a fist on her hip as she regarded him with disappointment. "Come on, you know me better than that."

Right. Gemma knew everything that went on inside and outside of the clubhouse. Nothing got past her-not like he'd wanted to keep this new relationship Isabelle a secret but he would've appreciated at least a little time to get used to it before having to deal with his mother.

"Look, Jax," Gemma rested a hand on his shoulder, her eyes softening. "I'm glad you finally got your head out of your ass about Isabelle. You two have been driving everybody absolutely crazy, and frankly, I'd had just about enough of all this will they or won't they bullshit. There's enough drama around here as it is...but just know that I've had my eye on you all morning and it's like you've done a complete 180 on me. This is the happiest I've seen you in way too long and I'm glad it's because of her."

He shot her a grin. "So I take it you approve then, huh?"

She swatted him playfully upside the head. "Cocky little shit...of course I approve. I approved when I hired her, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I guess," he shrugged.

A flash of shiny black in the parking lot caught his attention and his heart leapt up into his throat-she was finally here. Acutely aware that his mother was watching like a hawk, he quickly shoved his hands into his front pockets to mask as much of his reaction as possible. It was probably just a lost cause anyways because Gemma always had a way of seeing right through people and he knew her flesh and blood was no exception.

"You really got it bad, don't you?" Gemma shifted a little as they both watched Isabelle shut the door on her Trans Am and head up to the office, a bag of food and two drinks in her hands.

He looked at his mother and saw nothing but pride and approval. It was nice to see that for a change-he'd gotten so used to the judgmental cloud in her eyes that he'd almost forgotten what this felt like. So he just chewed on his bottom lip to hide his smile and hoped that was enough of an answer for her.

"Well," Gemma continued softly. "All I can say is that even if you haven't given much thought about Tara being back, I can tell you that Isabelle most definitely has."

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. Way to rain on his fucking parade.

"I would too, if I was her. So if you're really serious about starting something with her, you'd better figure out a way to make sure you clear up any confusion about how this weekend is gonna go. Don't leave any room for interpretation, baby."

He nodded quickly, his eyes trained on the girl walking towards them.

"She's one of the good ones, Jax," Gemma went on quietly, her voice eerily serious. "Don't fuck this up."

His eyes never left Isabelle as he spoke. "I'm not plannin' on it, Mom."

The hand on his shoulder squeezed gently. "Good."

About ten seconds later, Isabelle swung through the door with her hands full. On reflex, his hands shot out to take the drinks from her, earning him a grateful smile from his girl and a teasing smirk from his mother and then she reached out to pull Isabelle into a quick, almost maternal, embrace.

"Hey, sweetie," Gemma greeted her. "How you feelin'?"

"Good," Isabelle exhaled a little breathlessly and he couldn't keep the grin off his face at the pink coloring her cheeks when her gaze shifted back to him. "I'm feeling really good. I really can come back to work, you know."

Gemma just swatted out a hand. "Nah...I'm happy to give you the time off. You know that. Besides, it's been a pretty slow week anyways so Monday's really as good a time as any to come back. But-I've been meaning to ask you if you could help set up for Donna's shower on Friday."

Isabelle didn't hesitate, her face brightening at Gemma's request and he found himself thanking God that his mother and Isabelle got along. He understood now how much easier his life was going to be-even if they could potentially join forces against him, it was better than them going to war with each other. He'd learned that the hard way. Besides, regardless of how Isabelle felt about him, there was still going to be a serious adjustment period for her when it came to his involvement with the club. While he was still a little unsure of exactly how much she understood, she was going to need to take a crash course in Samcro culture pretty soon-and he hoped Gemma would be there to to guide her through all the shit that came along with being an old lady.

"What do you need me to do?" Isabelle was asking now.

"Well, I could probably use some help in the kitchen, if you're interested or you could help some of the other girls set up the tables and decorations-whatever you're up for."

"I'll help with whatever you need, Gemma," Isabelle offered good-naturedly.

"Thanks, sweetie," Gemma smiled back at her.

Then they stood there awkwardly as he and Isabelle couldn't peel the shit-eating grins off their faces. He shifted anxiously in her direction, eager to get his hands on her but not so eager to do it in front of his mother. He almost had to close his eyes at the memory of last night in Isabelle's bed. While he'd been able to keep himself from escalating things further than where they'd gone in the clubhouse, he was honestly just satisfied with being able to kiss her and touch her. Everything else was just a big, fat bonus. And fuck, he was looking forward to getting that bonus.

"Oookay," Gemma huffed. "You two kids get outta here and go eat. Trust me, I'm happy for you, but that doesn't mean I need to see...that."

The pink flushed into a deep crimson across Isabelle's cheeks and he just chuckled, motioning towards the door with his head. When they were finally sitting at their picnic table and she was in the process of spreading out their takeout, he leaned forward, catching her by surprise with a quick kiss.

She blushed again at his forwardness, which was ironic, given the way she'd barged into the clubhouse the day before. That blush was quickly becoming one of his new favorite things about her. One of many...that was for sure.

"Hey, babe," he grinned at her.

"Hi, Jax," she bit down on her lip to curb her smile.

"So how you feelin' today? Any headaches?"

She shook her head a little, her mouth twisting up in a vivacious smile. "Nope; in fact, I slept absolutely fantastic last night. Can't imagine why."

His eyebrows rose suggestively as he popped a fry into his mouth. "Yeah, I did too...funny, huh?"

"Hilarious."

He ducked when she threw a fry at his head and chuckled into his cheeseburger. As he grinned back at the girl who had quickly become the center of his everything, he knew that Gemma was right. Isabelle didn't deserve to suffer through the entire weekend wondering or worrying-after the previous weekend, she didn't deserve anything but an opportunity to have some fun and let loose a little, minus the alcohol per doctor's orders. The problem was he wasn't exactly sure how to put her mind at ease. He was no Shakespeare when it came to words and knowing what he wanted to say and actually being able to articulate it were two different things. So he decided to give it his best shot.

"So Ope and Don are gettin' married on Saturday."

She did her best to stare back at him impassively. "Mm hmm."

"And I was hopin' maybe you'd be my date."

A slow smile crept across her face until she was beaming back at him. "I'd love to, Jax."

"Well," he leaned forward on his elbows as he spoke. "You should know that I've got two left feet. I'm just warnin' ya-I'm not much of a dancer but as long as it's a slow one, I'll be out on the dance floor with ya, babe.."

"I think I can work with that," she grinned back slyly before leaning forward to meet him in the middle for a quick kiss.

He hoped that was enough to ease any worry she might be feeling and in case she was still having some doubts about this weekend, he made sure to drive the point home when they climbed into her bed that night. It was the only medium he was really equipped with to let her know how he was feeling-mainly because he was still trying to work through those feelings himself. And it was absolutely necessary that anything they did in bed together take place in her bed, not his. Bringing her to the clubhouse and having her in his dorm room just didn't sit well with him. He needed her to know that she was different, that she wasn't just one in a line of many. Seeing her all spread out on his bed had only reinforced it and he'd had to slam on the brakes. When he was finally inside her, it wasn't going to be in the same bed and on the same sheets that had seen more than their fair share of his booze-fueled conquests. He needed her to understand that this wasn't just about sex for him.

So when he gently nudged her back into her pillow that night and leisurely slid her panties down her smooth legs, he realized that what he was about to do was pretty fucking momentous for him. On any average 'encounter' with the opposite sex, he'd primarily been considered with speed and getting off. He'd learned pretty quickly that the croweaters spread details about their experiences with patches faster than a wild fire, so he'd only needed to put in minimal effort when his dick was already inside to get the chick to come too. It was just good for his reputation and if it felt good enough for the chick, then it was feeling good for him too. Sometimes, he was too drunk to even attempt to climb on top and just let her suck him off. But he'd never returned the favor, not with any of them. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy doing it-he most definitely did. To him, going down on a girl was about intimacy and trust; it was about wanting to give without needing to take in return and up until the last few days, he'd never really been all that concerned with giving as of late. He'd only gone down that road with one other girl and now she was nothing if not a distant, inconsequential memory.

The fact that he was heading south, placing little kisses on her stomach and the inside of her thighs in the process, meant something. He needed to show her that she was different; he needed to show her that he wasn't treating her like some crow eater he'd picked up off the floor at the clubhouse. The problem was, he didn't know how to tell her that because part of him was absolutely terrified of what would happen if she thought too long about all the ones who'd come before her. He'd already forgotten them a long time ago and he needed her to do the same.

She sucked in a sharp breath when his tongue slid up in between her legs and twisted a fist in his hair, holding him in place. He grinned up at her for a moment, loving this new side she was showing him. Who would've thought that the doe-eyed girl who worked in the office would turn out to be such a bad girl in bed? He certainly wasn't complaining...and he proved his appreciation for his good fortune by sucking down on her clit, making her hands clench in his hair. She was moaning now, which only solidified his mission to make her come as many times as he could tonight. It certainly didn't hurt that her writhing into her pillow and arching up her hips towards him was hot as hell. With his tongue lapping at her in slow, intentionally torturous circles, it didn't take long before her moans muffled into the pillow, her entire body shuddering with release.

After wiping his mouth, he placed a few gentle kisses on the inside of her thighs and settled himself in between her legs. He brushed some hair out of her eyes and tucked it gently behind her ear, praying she could see the devotion radiating down from him. She exhaled breathlessly, leaning back into her pillow to regain her bearings. Then her hands skimmed to the waistband of his boxers, dipping dangerously low.

His hands shot out to her wrists to stop her and he pivoted back on the bed, landing on the other side of her and just a little out of her reach. Seeing confusion mixed with a little disappointment written all over her pretty face, he jumped right into damage control.

"It's alright, babe," he shifted into her to kiss her sweaty forehead. "I don't need you to do that for me."

Her forehead crinkled and if he worried that if she protested much longer, he just might give in. A guy could only hold back for so long, especially with a girl like her curled up against him in all her naked glory.

"Why, Jax? I want to..."

"I know you do, Iz...trust me, I appreciate it. It's just that...I wanna take this slow, do things right with you," he sighed into her hair.

"How is this slow, Jax?" she chuckled and it dawned on him that maybe he'd miscalculated this whole thing.

Maybe this was slow for him, but it clearly wasn't for her. They'd only really been together for a day and this was already the second night he was spending in her bed. He didn't know how to tell her that not going slow for him meant tossing some random croweater on the bed and pounding into her before she even had a chance to get her shirt over her head. That wasn't a conversation he really wanted to have with Isabelle, mainly because he didn't know if he'd be able to handle seeing the inevitable judgment creeping into her sweet eyes. He'd give anything to be able to rewind the last few months, to handle his shit differently, so that all that history would barely be a blip on her radar.

But he couldn't change how fast and how low he'd sunken in within himself. Now, all he wanted to do was just make her feel good and show her how much he was loving every second of it so it had never really occurred to him that she had different ideas about the way things were progressing. And he definitely hadn't considered that maybe he'd been unintentionally sending her mixed signals.

"What if I don't wanna go that slow, Jax?" she murmured sexily, leaning up to face him on her elbow. Her hair was cascading down her back and her eyes were heavily hooded with something that made him fist his hands in her sheets to keep from giving in. "What if I wanna make you feel good, too?"

"I don't want you to feel like you have to," he tried to explain. "This is enough, Iz; just holdin' you here like this. I don't need anything else right now. I can wait."

Her lips curved and he felt his mouth go dry. "What if I can't?"

It was hard to argue with that logic and his dick was already straining against his boxers to be released. As his voice died in his throat, her soft hands slid down to his boxers and this time, he let her find her way in, thanking God that in spite of all the shit he'd dug himself out of, someone thought he deserved this. That was the thing about relationships...giving was something to take pride in and receiving was just the icing on the cake.

* * *

Isabelle spooned some more potato salad into one of many large bowls that needed to be carried out from the kitchen and set out on the bar. The clubhouse was already filled with women who'd arrived for the shower: old ladies, friends of the club, Donna's mom and sisters, Opie's family, and an assortment of croweaters Gemma had recruited for clean-up duty. Donna was supposed to open her presents soon and it was only then that the men would officially be allowed back inside their clubhouse. Even though she'd been around the clubhouse for the last four months or so, she was just only recently starting to get a hang of the order of things here. She imagined any psychologist or sociologist would have a field day studying this hierarchy in which the men essentially regarded women as property, but could just as easily relinquish their 'lair' for a bridal/baby shower.

As ironic as it was, it was still obvious that when one of the members chose a woman to be his old lady-she was still trying to figure out what that all entailed-he would defend and protect her until the day he died. There was something a little romantic about that, even if it was just as archaic. And misogynistic. But, deep down, she knew if Jax was the one claiming her, there would be no protesting on her end.

A flash of red appeared alongside her and Isabelle had to take a deep inhale for strength. She'd been trying to avoid Tara like the plague, purposefully sitting on the opposite side of the room and dodging small talk at any cost. Gemma had graciously saved her twice already but as Isabelle's eyes darted helplessly around the room, anyone who could potentially rescue her was already preoccupied.

Tara had had the balls to breeze into the clubhouse with her arms full of presents and dressed in a skin tight red dress that hugged all the curves Isabelle had forgotten she had and showed a little more leg and cleavage than necessary for a bridal/baby shower. Showing up late, over-dressed and over-enthusiastic hadn't sat well with the majority of the party guests, Donna and Gemma included, and Isabelle knew she had to take some consolation in that. But if Tara had gotten the memo that there weren't too many people here happy to see her, she sure as hell didn't show it.

Isabelle glanced down at her own attire-just a black maxi skirt with a white tank tucked into it-and she almost shook her head at Tara. She wasn't fooling anyone and it was obvious what her end game was here. Everyone knew Tara had only dressed that way for one reason, and one reason alone: she knew the guys would be showing up right after the present opening for food and cake. Unfortunately, as she glanced back at Tara's dress, she knew that she was really no better. After all, she'd sauntered into the clubhouse only three days before dressed a little too similarly for comfort. It had worked like a charm for her and apparently, Tara had the same idea. That thought didn't do her nerves any favors right now.

"Hey, Isabelle," Tara greeted her with enough sugar in her voice to pass as friendly.

"Hi, Tara."

"How's it going? You're still working at T-M, right?"

Isabelle nodded quickly, eager to get this obligatory conversation over with already. "Yeah, I am."

She would also be forever grateful to Gemma, who'd conspiratorially let her know that Donna hadn't yet told Tara that she and Jax were together. If anything, it made having this conversation a little easier to fake. As Isabelle spooned a little more potato salad into the bowl, Tara's bright smile quickly faded into a strange, almost pained expression of confusion.

"Gemma's got you helping with the food? You're not helping with the clean up?" Tara asked suddenly.

She frowned back at her, not sure what one had to do with the other. "Um...yeah. Gemma told me since I helped her in the kitchen, I can just relax after the guys show up."

Tara began to chew nervously on her bottom lip and Isabelle stared back at her, stupidly feeling like she was missing something here.

"So...uh, how's school? How's Chicago? It must be really great this time of year with all the snow and Christmas decorations popping up." It was all bullshit but she needed to say something to curb the awkward silence permeating between them.

Whatever fog was surrounding Tara, she quickly shook herself out of it and plastered a cool smile on her face. "It's great, actually. I have a great apartment, I'm going to a great school...everything's just...great."

Isabelle nodded slowly. The sadness and insincerity in Tara's voice was unmistakable and she felt herself bristling a little in response. It wasn't so much that Tara was obviously unhappy in Chicago that bothered her-it was what that meant for her that just about sent her into a tailspin. Before coming face to face with Jax's ex, she'd been confident in the way he felt about her. He hadn't really said it outright and she figured it was mainly because they'd only been together for less than a week, but his actions told her that whatever was between them meant something to him. The fact that he kept trying to 'take it slow'-whatever that meant-and that he was so gentle and so careful with her told her they were on the same page.

But now, standing literally toe to toe with the girl whose abandonment had sent Jax into such a severe downward spiral he'd had to self-medicate with booze, weed, and sex...she found herself battling to keep the imminent panic attack at bay.

"So, um, Gemma told me you're going to art school in January?" Tara was asking her now.

"Yeah, for spring semester."

Tara smiled softly and for a moment, Isabelle almost thought it was genuine. "Congratulations-that must be really exciting. Gemma also said you got into two of the best schools in California...you know, if I didn't know her any better, I'd say she was bragging about you a little."

Isabelle wasn't entirely sure if that was intended to be just a compliment or an underhanded one but decided it was best to just shrug it off. There was no sense in starting an unnecessary catfight, especially at a party like this. Besides, she couldn't imagine her doctor would be very happy with her if he found out she was rolling around on the floor in a fight one week after getting a concussion.

"Yeah, well," she just sighed. "Gemma and I get along pretty well, so maybe she was."

She almost didn't catch the way Tara's eyes narrowed for just a split second. Almost. She was trying to be civil; she really was...but Tara was making it very difficult without even probably trying that hard.

"Okay, well, I'd better let you finish up here before the herd of hungry men show up," Tara chuckled as she started to back away a little. "It was nice seeing you again, Isabelle."

"Yeah, you too, Tara."

Isabelle blew out a deep sigh of relief when Tara finally backed away completely and headed for the other side of the clubhouse, clearly needing to put some distance between them. Suddenly, she felt an elbow gently nudging her in the side and turned to find Donna, with her round baby belly, smiling kindly up at her.

"Hey, Isabelle," Donna started cheerily. "I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate all your help. I know it probably wasn't exactly on your list of things to do today but it really means a lot."

"Don't worry about it," Isabelle just swatted out a hand dismissively. "I was happy to do it. Besides, it's not like you don't have a lot going on this weekend, right?"

"What you mean like a wedding?" Donna laughed. "Oh right, that. Yeah."

"Yeah, you know, no big deal or anything...are you nervous or do you just wanna get it over with?"

Donna just shrugged. "A little bit of both, I guess. I can tell you I'm definitely more than ready to get rid of this though." She pointed down to her protruding belly. "I am uncomfortable as shit and right about now...I'm really hating myself for holding off on the wedding so Ope and I could save some money. We really should've just run off to Reno or something and been done with it."

"Nice," Isabelle laughed. "I guess that's what I have to look forward to then."

Donna grimaced with a nod. "Hate to break it to ya-but yeah. Hey...how are you doing with Tara being back in town? I saw you guys before and it looked a little tense."

"That's because it was," Isabelle sighed. "I'm glad it's over with, to tell you the truth. She was just asking me some weird questions...it was really awkward. She doesn't know about me and Jax, right?"

"If she does, it wasn't from me," Donna frowned. "What kind of questions was she asking you?"

"Well, she was really confused why Gemma was having me help in the kitchen and not with the clean-up. Why does that even matter?"

Donna smiled knowingly, her eyes grazing the room until they settled on Gemma. "It matters because, when it comes to all the women around here, whatever Gemma says goes. And she was a particular way of doing things. There are rules and a system and every woman has a place in it, depending on how Gemma sees your role within the club."

"Okay," Isabelle nodded slowly as she tried to absorb this information. While she'd known from the start that Gemma was queen bee around here, no one had really explained the ins and outs to her before.

"So whenever there's a 'family' event, as Gemma calls it, every woman has a specific role. Obviously I was kinda off the hook today since it's my party and all but if it wasn't, I'd be helping you in the kitchen with the food because I'm Opie's old lady. Clean up tends to be reserved for crow eaters, hang arounds, and prospects."

"So I'm helping in the kitchen because..."

"I think Gemma already thinks of you as Jax's old lady," Donna finished for her a smile. "So my guess is that she played this little game today to stick it to Tara and to help you get used to your new role."

It was going to take her little while to process all that, so she decided to focus elsewhere for the time being. "So why does Gemma have Becca on clean up then? Her and Juice started dating back in May and they've been going pretty hot and heavy for a while now."

Donna just shrugged. "Maybe Gemma doesn't think it's serious between them and she's probably right. Maybe she just doesn't trust Becca all that much-who knows?"

That was an interesting observation and one she'd never really considered before.

"So what's the difference, then? Between dating and being an old lady? I'm sorry-it's just that no one's ever really explained it to me before and I feel like I'm barely keeping my head above water with all this."

"Don't worry about it," Donna grinned. "It was confusing for me too when Ope and I first started seeing each other. I guess the best way I can explain it is that being an old lady is basically like being a wife, just without the ring and the paperwork. Some patches are perfectly fine just having an old lady and some make it official and get married, but either way-they're still considered an old lady."

Now Isabelle's head was spinning a little with all this new information.

"It's the commitment that really counts," Donna went on, smiling a little wistfully as she spoke. "It means that your man will love and protect you and you'll love and support him back. I know some of these guys don't seem like they would but they take this pretty seriously. If anything were to happen to an old lady, especially if it was because of club business, none of them would hesitate to go to battle for her-that would be more out of respect to her old man but you get the idea."

Isabelle nodded slowly, still trying to wrap her head around all this. "And all these guys...they're really one woman guys when they have an old lady?"

"Not all of them," Donna shrugged simply. "But some of them are, like Ope and Jax. And when it's all said and done, you get one of these."

Donna pulled the back of her shirt down a little to reveal a small crow perched on a thorny rose with the words 'Property of Opie Winston' underneath it.

"Holy shit-they brand you?"

"Opie got my name tattooed across his throat so I'd say he and I are square," Donna replied wryly. Then she shocked her by reaching out and squeezing her hand gently. "Look, Isabelle, I just want you to know that I'm really happy for you guys-Jax just has this bounce in his step now and you're practically glowing. If you ever need anything or if you just need someone to vent to, just give me a call, okay? I know all this can be really overwhelming and scary sometimes and it helps to be able to talk to someone you can trust."

"Thanks, Donna," Isabelle smiled, touched by her sincerity. "I really appreciate that...and you know you can call me if you need something too, right?"

"Yeah, I do," Donna laughed. "I better get back to the party before Gemma gets all over my pregnant ass."

She waved a little as Donna stepped back into the crowd of guests. A few minutes later, Gemma announced that it was time for Donna to open all her presents and Isabelle settled back into her chair next to Becca, and a careful distance away from Tara, who'd positioned herself right in between Gemma and Donna. Annoyed didn't even begin to describe the emotion Isabelle felt as she watched Tara throw her head back and laugh at something Donna said.

"I really hate that bitch," Becca whispered hotly. "Coming here and acting like nothing's changed..what the hell is wrong with her?"

Isabelle just shrugged calmly, careful not to let how much she agreed with that statement show. "I guess she just needs a reality check."

"More like she just needs to get slapped," Becca's eyes flashed darkly as she spoke.

"Wow...simmer down there, okay?"

"Yeah, sorry," Becca shrugged sheepishly. "I guess I'm still just a little pissed I got stuck with a garbage duty again. Hey-how did you get out of it? I've been slaving over dirty dishes and sticky floors for the past six months and you and Jax are together for what, three days, and all of a sudden you're helping in the kitchen? That sucks..."

With Donna's words still swimming around in her head, Isabelle just bit her lip and tried to shrug it off. When Donna had unwrapped her last present, the clubhouse doors burst open, as a stream of black leather cuts herded through the hallway and right for the food. With a familiar blonde head still MIA, Isabelle couldn't stop herself from watching Tara from the corner of her eye. Her heart thudded unsteadily in her chest as Tara smoothed down her hair and her dress before scanning the flood of cuts anxiously. She even fucking stood up on her heels to look for Jax-as if no one else was in the room, as if she couldn't care less who was watching. Isabelle bit down hard on her lip when Jax, who had an arm wrapped around Opie's shoulders, finally came into view. She almost stood to go greet him before Tara had a chance to get to him first but immediately decided her better choice right now was just to stay put.

Because of the crowd and because she was still sitting on the opposite end of the room, Jax would see Tara before he'd ever see her, regardless of which one he was actually looking for. And because the masochist in her reared its ugly head, she decided to hang back and wait to see how this inevitable train wreck played out.

From her vantage point, it almost seemed like everything was happening in slow motion. Opie and Jax strode into the clubhouse's main area together and from where she sat, it looked like Opie caught sight of Tara first. He bent down to mutter something in Jax's ear, making Jax turn his head in Tara's direction.

With a shaky breath, Isabelle watched helplessly as Jax and Tara looked at each other for the first time in over four months. But it was Jax's face that she was fixated on. That was the reaction she needed to see. Jax was rooted to the floor as he stared back at Tara and for a moment, he seemed genuinely startled, if not bewildered, to see her standing less than ten feet away. Then an indecipherable mask slipped on over his face as he and Opie closed the distance between them and Tara. Opie reached down to pull her into a quick embrace and then stepped away to find Donna, leaving Jax and Tara alone.

They both seemed to reach for each other at the same time and Isabelle felt her heart twisting inside her. She hadn't counted on this being so painful, seeing Jax putting his arms around his ex-even though she'd been well aware it was a possibility. Their arms seemed to linger around each other a little too long, even though she had to admit she was a little biased, and then Jax gently pulled away from Tara. He was speaking to her now with a small smile spreading on his face and then nodded to her. Isabelle's stomach churned when Tara beamed back up at him, her entire face brightened just by the fleeting moment they'd just shared together. Just as her chest was beginning to heave with the onset of a panic attack, Jax turned a little on his heel to backpedal away from Tara. He was weaving around the crowd now, sidestepping the throngs pushing up to the food table, his eyes anxiously scanning the crowd. He was looking for her. Holy shit, he was looking for her.

His face broke out into a wide grin when he finally found her and she held herself back, letting him come to her. Then she felt his warm, rough hands slide around her waist to pull her into his arms as he leaned down to press a quick kiss onto her lips.

"Hey, babe," he murmured into her ear. "Havin' fun?"

She barely had a chance to nod in the affirmative before he was leaning down to kiss her again.

"You eat yet?" He asked.

"No, I haven't gotten a chance," she shook her head, biting her lip to keep her relief from spreading all the way across her face.

"Figures," he muttered, pulling her with him towards the food line. Keeping both hands gripped firmly on her waist, he walked her to the end of the line and it felt like her body was on fire.

"By the way," he whispered from behind her as they waited their turn. "You look fuckin' smokin', babe."

She laughed, grinning widely as his hand slid around her stomach to draw her even closer to him. Looking over her shoulder, she rose an eyebrow. "I think you just might be saying that because you're gonna miss me tonight."

His eyebrows flew into his forehead and she shivered at the sensation of his hot breath next to her ear. "I don't have to stay with Ope, you know. Fuck him. I'd rather be in bed with you anyways."

She turned around so she could swat him playfully on the shoulder. "You're staying with Opie tonight. Besides, I'm pretty sure I'll find a way to survive without you for one night."

"You wish, babe."

He wrapped his arms around her a little more tightly now that she was facing him and took the opportunity to kiss her again. It was that moment that Isabelle's eyes wandered over Jax's shoulder, only to collide directly with Tara, who was standing frozen about ten feet away. Tara was gaping back at them with wide, pained eyes, her face pale and twisted with grief. Isabelle quickly turned herself back around in Jax's arms and he squeezed her back into him, none the wiser that his ex had just witnessed their entire exchange. Part of her wanted to mentally fist pump in victory...but the other part of her knew it wasn't that simple. Regardless of the awkward encounter they'd had earlier, Isabelle had never set out to intentionally hurt Tara's feelings. She hadn't even realized Tara was watching them or she might've made Jax tone it down a little. This was Donna and Opie's weekend and the last thing she needed right now was to find herself in an all-out brawl with Tara and put Jax in the middle of it. The jury was still out on how that would go and Isabelle didn't see the point in testing fate if she could avoid it.

After they'd eaten together and Jax gave her a quick kiss goodbye, he and the rest of the club high-tailed it out of there before the garbage bags made an appearance. Since Becca-and the croweaters-were already at work cleaning up the dirty dishes and assorted garbage, Isabelle figured it was a good opportunity to run into the office to grab her schedule for the next week. She was just reaching out to turn the doorknob when she heard low voices coming from the other side of the door.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tara's trembling voice floated out from behind the door.

"I don't know," Donna replied back tersely. "Maybe because it's really not any of your business anymore."

Tara sighed and Isabelle heard one of the office chairs scratch against the old tile floors. She knew she should turn back and head straight for the clubhouse before someone caught her. All anyone had to do was just walk past the office and she'd be found out. But despite the risk, she was completely frozen in place.

"How long have they been together?"

Donna exhaled loudly, like she was trying to weigh her options before answering: "About a week."

She was going to have to find a way to thank Donna later for rounding up.

"That's it? Really? He can't be serious about her then if it's only been a week."

Isabelle felt her throat tighten as all her worst fears were confirmed. She probably didn't need to listen to the rest of their conversation to know for sure what Tara's true intentions were for this weekend...but she just couldn't tear herself away, as excruciating as it was.

"I don't know, Tara; he's bringing her to the wedding tomorrow as his date and you and everyone else saw the way he was with her in the clubhouse...I'd say he's serious."

"So she's a rebound. So what?"

Donna snorted a little. "Trust me, Isabelle's no rebound. A lot's happened between them since you left, Tara...you don't even really know the half of it."

"I'm not gonna let that get in my way. Jax and I have too much history for him to just brush me off-he already told me he'd talk to me tomorrow at the reception when he had some time."

Isabelle's heart shattered into tiny shards across the pavement and she thought she might be sick all over T-M's parking lot. That was what he was saying to Tara before...they were making plans to talk at the reception tomorrow.

"Maybe you should just leave him alone, Tara."

"I can't, Don."

"Sure you can. It's as simple as being my maid of honor, having a good time tomorrow, and then going back to Chicago on Sunday."

Tara sighed again and Isabelle could imagine she was pacing the office right now, trying to figure out the best way to throw herself at Jax tomorrow. On one hand, she was nothing but a puddle of gratitude for the way Donna defended her still very new relationship with Jax. On the other, she was brimming with barely bridled resolve to either break down the door so she could strangle Tara with her bare hands or to just slide down the outside paneling and cry. Instinctively knowing that neither of those options was going to help her, she just stayed put.

"I told you already," Tara went on; this time, her voice had found some renewed strength. "I'm miserable there...it was such a huge fucking mistake. I never should've gone and I have to make him understand that things are different now. I know what I did and I know it'll take some time but...Donna, all of this can be fixed. He just has to listen to what I have to say."

"Look, Tara, you're my best friend and I want you to be happy, I really do. But you also need to remember that you're the one who left and Jax can do whatever he wants. You gave up the right to have a say in that a long time ago. And...he's really happy now, Tara. Maybe you should think about that a little bit before you fly off the handle."

"There's nothing to think about anymore. All I've been doing is thinking. I'm done with thinking, Donna."

"You can't just pull him aside, tell him you're sorry, and think you can just pick up where you left off."

"Maybe not...but that doesn't matter. I never stopped loving him, Donna. That's all I can think about and if I know Jax, that's all he can think about too. Anything he's had since with any other girl-I don't care who it is-it doesn't matter because it hasn't been with me. I've still got his crow...that means something and you know it. I know he still loves me, Donna. I just know...I could feel it when he hugged me before. Nothing and no one else matters but that."

And just like that, all her resolve, all her confidence, and everything she thought she knew about her relationship with Jax vanished into thin air.

* * *

**A/N-Two updates in one week? Gotta love summer, right? ;) **

**So...I think it's safe to tell you guys that I've been waiting to write the next two chapters since, well, before I even had the outline for this story finished. I'm gonna get on that and hopefully, they'll live up to yours and my expectations. I'd like to think I can have Ch. 16 ready at some point this weekend, but I can't make any promises. However, to appease any worries about how this chapter ended, I'll give you a little teaser for the next one: Ch. 16's title is "Somebody That I Used To Know". Haha.**

**Anyways, please let me know what you thought of this-anything you want to tell me, likes, dislikes, predictions, I love hearing it all and it really keeps me motivated to keep writing. The response to this so far has been amazing and I can't tell you enough how much I appreciate it!**


	16. Somebody That I Used To Know

With the clamoring and whoops of exuberation echoing through the reception hall, it was just that much more difficult for Isabelle to pretend like something, or rather someone, wasn't grinding a million nails into her heart. Inhaling deeply for the strength to figure out to make it through the rest of this night in one piece, she stepped through the hall's threshold with Becca at her side.

The wedding itself had gone off without a hitch. Donna had looked radiant in her form-fitting dress as she strode up the aisle, proudly displaying her baby bump for all to see. There was really no point in trying to hide anything because everyone already knew she was pregnant anyways. And when the opening notes of Aerosmith's "I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing" started playing when Donna floated up the aisle, Isabelle couldn't keep from smiling with the rest of the wedding guests. She probably shouldn't have expected anything less from a biker wedding. She'd even laughed with the rest of the crowd when Opie promised to treat Donna as good as his leathers and ride her as much as his Harley. But after the ceremony, the sight of Opie and Donna's respective maid and man of honor walking down the aisle together arm in arm had almost sent her teetering over the edge. She'd had to fist her fingernails into her hands just to keep from screaming.

Up until that moment, she'd been holding it together pretty well. Jax, making good on his promise to bring her as his date, had stopped by Becca's apartment with Juice that morning to bring them to the wedding. Her and Becca had spent a lot of time in front of the mirror that morning and she'd chosen a strapless, knee-length black dress with some fullness in the skirt, keeping her makeup simple and leaving her hair in loose waves down her back. She didn't want to look like she was trying too hard so she'd felt a stuttering glimmer of hope when Jax had whispered into her ear that she looked beautiful. She'd been able to fan it all throughout the morning and the entire ceremony up until its last moments.

That glimmer of hope was on its last legs when she'd seen the look of Tara's face as she walked down the aisle with her arm secured underneath Jax's. It was a look that read triumph. Excitement. Hope. Vindication. Like she had the world at her feet and was about to regain her place in this confusing, overwhelming world. So Isabelle had sucked in a breath and prayed that image wouldn't forever be burned into her memory.

It had taken all of her remaining willpower not to stand up in the middle of all Opie and Donna's wedding guests and scream.

Of course, it didn't help that Jax's duties as best man had made him largely absent from the ceremony to the start of the reception. It wasn't necessarily his fault...this was the biggest day of his best friend's life; but, it certainly wasn't doing anything to curb the mounting dread settling at the pit of her stomach. Due to all of Samcro's members stopping at the clubhouse for one customary drink as a club, Isabelle and Becca had driven over to the reception hall with Gemma and a few other wedding guests connected to the club.

There'd been plenty of opportunities for Isabelle to just talk to someone about what she was feeling right now and, arguably, plenty of times to talk to Jax...but that would involve divulging that she'd eavesdropped on Tara and Donna at the shower in order to paint the full picture and that wasn't exactly something she was looking forward to doing. Besides, even if she confided in Becca, she knew exactly what the response would be: that this was nothing but an overreaction. That wasn't the answer she was looking for and she knew this was more than just paranoia. This was a real fucking ugly possibility.

It would be easy to just stay glued to Jax's side, to not let Tara anywhere near him, but she knew he'd already agreed to speak to her. And she knew enough about Jax to know by now that if he wanted to do something, he was going to do it. Besides, she told herself, even when that inevitable conversation happened, there was no guarantee how it would go. Maybe Jax would be polite and listen to what Tara needed to tell him and then tell her that it was too late, that he'd already moved on. Or maybe he would tell Tara he still loved her and they would get back together at some point during the reception.

Although she was torturing herself, she felt like she almost had to allow that conversation to take place. She'd waged that battle with herself the night before while Jax slept soundly next to her and was determined to follow through on that resolve. She'd already said everything she could say-apart from the one thing she was sure would have him high-tailing it for the door anyways-so she was all out of hands to play now. All she could do now was let the chips fall and see how the hands played out. Regardless of the outcome, she knew that if she eliminated the choice for him, what would she really have? On some level, wouldn't it mean more if Jax had the opportunity to get back together with Tara but chose her instead? And if there was a chance-and there was most definitely a chance-that he would choose Tara, wouldn't it be easier if she knew now before she had too much invested?

_You already have too much invested_, an evil voice whispered, _and you're setting yourself up for heartbreak tonight._

"Hey, Isabelle?" Becca's worried voice called out to her. "Are you okay?"

She shook herself out of her stupor and pressed a fake smile across her face. "Everything's fine...why?"

"I don't know," Becca eyed her carefully as they ventured deeper inside the reception hall. "You've just been really quiet today. You seem like you've been in your own little world since the ceremony."

Isabelle figured the only way she was getting herself out of this was if she lied her ass off. "I'm just kinda tired...long couple of nights, you know?"

Becca's eyebrows rose suggestively. "Ah...the truth comes out. So have you guys been at your house every night or the clubhouse?"

"My house," she answered simply as they took their seats at their assigned table, grateful that Gemma wasn't within earshot at the moment.

"Well, that's the right choice-might as well take advantage of having the house all to yourself, right?"

"Yeah," Isabelle sighed. "Something like that."

"So..." Becca dipped her head down to whisper lowly. "Are the rumors true? Is he a stallion in bed or what?"

For a moment, Isabelle's mind turned into complete mush. "What? There're rumors about him?"

Becca blinked back at her and grimaced as the enormity of her error dawned on her. "Oh shit...sorry. I thought you knew-I mean, it's not exactly like it was a secret he got around before you guys...oh shit. I should just stop talking."

Yes, Becca stop talking. This was exactly what she needed to be hearing right now. Just one more fucking kink in her armor.

"Don't worry about it," she tried to just bat away all her fears but to no avail. Maybe if she could convince Becca that everything was alright with her and Jax, she could convince herself too.

"I'm sorry," Becca repeated quietly, her eyes clouded with worry. "So does that mean you guys haven't...?"

Isabelle shook her head quickly. "No, we haven't."

"Why the hell not?"

"It's not that I don't want to...he told me he wanted to take it slow."

Becca's face contorted into a slight frown. "Huh."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Isabelle shot back a little too defensively and immediately regretted her tone. Snapping at her best friend was not going to help her get through this day.

Becca's eyes widened and she leaned away from her enough to eye her warily. "Nothing, Belle. I just think Jax really likes you...he doesn't seem like the type to take it slow, if you know what I mean. Why else would he..."

She trailed off, quickly rearranging her napkin on lap as Jax and Juice made their way over to their table. Isabelle lost all train of thought when she felt warm hands settle on her bare shoulders and hot breath in her ear.

"'Sup, babe?" Jax hovered over her to murmur in her ear and she thought she might pass out from the sensation. Her senses were just going into overdrive today; everything was heightened, everything more intense and his touch wasn't enough to scare away all the doubt and trepidation lingering in her stomach.

"Hey, Jax," she shifted a little to turn her cheek into his and he pressed a quick kiss into her lips.

"Sorry I've kinda been a shitty date...duty calls, you know?" He chuckled into her ear before dropping down into the chair beside her. Unfortunately for her, now that he was sitting right next to her, he had a clear view of her face.

"Everything okay, Iz?" He frowned, leaning forward to tangle their fingers together.

If there was ever going to be an opportunity to call him out on whatever might happen with Tara tonight, this was it. She chewed on her bottom lip nervously, hoping to God she was making the right decision. She wasn't going to force his hand. She couldn't. She'd made her play for him and he was here with her now. It just remained to be seen if he wanted to stay with her. At the very least, she could rest assured that she'd get her answer at some point tonight because she knew there was no way Tara was going to miss her chance. But Isabelle had to give it to her. She had to let them walk off alone together, as much as that idea made her want to vomit, because that was the only way she was ever going to know. And she was just going to have to figure out a way to reconcile that answer.

"Iz?"

He was watching her carefully now, worry etched into his gorgeous features and part of her almost couldn't stand it anymore. Part of her just wanted to throw her napkin down and run into the bathroom until this night was finally over. But the other part of her knew she had to stay. The part that knew she had to be strong enough to see this through to the end. She'd set herself up for this by throwing herself at him just days before his ex was coming back into town and now she just had to suck it up and deal with it.

"I'm fine, Jax," she answered, putting on a brave face for him. If she wasn't going to talk to him beforehand, the one thing she absolutely couldn't do was tip him off and make him feel guilty. He needed to make this decision with a clear head so she would get the true answer she was looking for before falling even further down the rabbit hole.

His eyes narrowed for just a moment and then he rubbed her fingers with his free hand before brushing his lips across her knuckles. The sweet gesture was something he'd done before, something she should be used to at this point. She wanted to take that as some sort of sign of reassurance, of him silently telling her everything was going to be okay. But she couldn't afford to fall into the trap of false hope.

"You sure?"

She could only nod quickly and force a smile onto her face. That was the best she could do given the circumstances. As a reward for her efforts, he leaned forward to press another quick kiss onto her lips; this time, he lingered there for a few extra moments, like he was trying to make his point. Then Gemma appeared above them to shoo Jax out of her seat and over to the bridal party's table.

"Alright, Ma," Jax laughed when Gemma swatted him over the head. "Just give me a second, okay?"

"Jesus Christ, you two need to get a room," Gemma muttered through her smirk. "Get moving, Jax."

He leaned forward one more time to kiss her again before whispering into her ear: "No one slow dances with you but me, a'ight?"

She breathed out a laugh with a nod, despite her predicament, and closed her eyes when he kissed her forehead before getting up to make room for Gemma. As she watched him walk away, with that cool, easy swagger he had, she fleetingly wondered if that was the last time he was going to kiss her like that. If that was the last time he was going to look at her like that. If that was the last time he was going to make her feel like that. Swallowing down the tightness in her throat, she slipped on the mask of a happy, satisfied wedding guest and let Gemma and Becca chat her up during the meal.

It was a welcome distraction-one that kept her from staring at the bridal table for too long. The glances she was able to sneak almost made her lose her appetite. Tara was trying to do the exact same thing she was, except she was stealing longing glances at Jax, who sat just a few chairs away from her, engaged in a lively conversation with Opie. This wasn't as simple as misplaced paranoia. Tara was getting ready to make her move.

Just as the DJ got the music going while the plates cleared and the guests started to mingle, Isabelle's heart leapt into her throat as Tara hesitantly stood from her chair and crossed the short distance between her and the man they were both in love with. She wanted to cover her eyes, so she couldn't see what she knew was going to happen, but remained rooted to her chair while Tara bent down to whisper something into Jax's ear. Everything just seemed to stop when Jax nodded to her and then he was pushing out of his chair to follow her through one of the hall's side doors. It didn't matter where they were going, whether it was to the parking lot or a closet; what mattered was what was going to happen when they got there.

She heard Becca inhale sharply next to her. Then all her resolve crumbled. Her eyes flew to the clock on the nearest wall-she hadn't planned on timing them but this was the only thing she had left to attempt to keep herself in check. The only way she could even try to remain calm. She could feel Becca's sympathetic eyes on her but remained stoicly in her chair, unable to move, unable to speak for fear of what she might do.

Five minutes passed and she was still keeping the panic in check. Her napkin was twisted into knots on her lap but overall, she was impressed with herself. Another five minutes passed and she was starting to feel a little queasy. After another five minutes, Gemma's eyes started darting nervously from where Isabelle sat to the door Jax and Tara had passed through fifteen minutes before. Becca was shifting anxiously next to her, despite the fact that Juice was beside her now and trying to get her out onto the dance floor. Donna was observing her with worried, glassy eyes as Opie ran a hand over his face. Another five minutes passed and it felt like anyone close enough to the situation to understand what was happening was either looking directly at her or at that side door.

That was when all her defenses started to crumble around her. Twenty minutes started to go onto thirty, then pushed thirty-five and it still seemed like time had stopped moving altogether. Maybe they were arguing...maybe Tara had been too forward, too pushy, and Jax was trying to talk some sense into her...or maybe Tara was hysterical with grief and Jax was trying to talk her off the ledge. _Or maybe,_ that evil voice whispered, _maybe they're in that closet together making up for lost time._

Of course he would choose Tara.

He'd told her himself that he couldn't make her any promises and he hadn't. Any declarations and omissions of feelings were one-sided on her part and Jax had had plenty of opportunities to tell her exactly what was going on in his head. While part of her wanted to believe that he had tried to show her, if he couldn't say it verbally, with every kiss and every soft touch, but how did she really know that she was different from the rest if he'd never told her? How could she really trust him if he'd never said the words? And she knew he hadn't told her because he wasn't sure, because he was still wrestling with Tara's abandonment, and trying to pick up the pieces of his life.

It was just grief and circumstance that had brought them together in the first place. That and Jax's sense of noble obligation to her where her dad was concerned. She'd seen first hand on more than several occasions what that grief had done to him, how absolutely shattered he was the months following Tara's departure, so she couldn't really blame him if he decided to forget the last few days they'd spent together and try to work things out with Tara.

She was a fucking idiot for ever thinking she stood a chance. How could she compete with years of history when all she'd had were a few days?

As the minutes ticked by, it became apparent that she needed to leave. He could tell her he was back with Tara tomorrow when there weren't 150 pairs of eyes watching this drama play out. She didn't think she'd be able to make it through the rest of the night when Jax and Tara came back through those doors...and she knew she wouldn't be able to keep her dinner down if they didn't.

She wanted to believe that Jax wouldn't hurt her that way, that he would at least have enough foresight in this situation to realize he was making a fool out of her in front of all these people and cut off his conversation with Tara, even if he had every intention of continuing it later in his dorm at the clubhouse. But...he was doing it. He was still out there somewhere with Tara and he clearly didn't care enough about her to give her a passing thought.

With one more glance at the clock, her heart dived head first into her stomach. Jax and Tara had been gone almost an hour. And everyone knew it.

Scrambling for her phone, her shaking fingers worked long enough to do a Google search for a cab and then she pushed out of her chair to dial. She'd almost made it to the main exit to the parking lot when a hand closed around her elbow. For a wonderful, glorious moment, her brain tricked itself into believing that was Jax pulling her back. But she'd know the feel of his calloused, gentle fingers anywhere and that wasn't the person she needed it to be.

"Belle, don't leave," Becca pleaded with her softly. "Just stay...just wait it out and see what happens."

Isabelle allowed herself to be gently pulled back but just shook her head. "I'm tired...it's been a long day. I'm just gonna go home and sleep, alright?"

"Then at least come back in and say goodbye to Opie and Donna," Becca persisted, trying to con her into going back inside the hall.

"I'll talk to them tomorrow," she brushed off hurriedly, her eyes scanning the parking lot for her cab. "They already have enough going on and I honestly don't want to draw any more attention to myself than there already is."

"That's his fault; not yours, Belle. Besides, you don't know what's going on...just please, don't leave like this."

Her mind was already made up and the fight in Becca's eyes died out when Isabelle shook her head. "They've been gone for almost a whole hour, Bec. What do you think is going on?"

"I think you should wait."

"My cab will be here any minute," she whispered softly. "Have a good time, alright? I'll call you in the morning."

Becca sighed defeatedly. "Alright...if that's what you want."

"Have a good night, Bec," Isabelle called over her shoulder as she pushed through the doors and into the crisp night air.

It wasn't until she was safely tucked inside the cab that she finally allowed her body to release all the stress, all the disappointment, and all the heartbreak that had been weighing down on her the entire night. After she gave the driver her address in hushed, gasping whispers, her head thudded back into the seat as tears streamed down her cheeks.

* * *

Jax allowed himself to be led out one of the side doors to the reception hall, hoping they weren't bringing too much attention to themselves. Tara pressed on ahead of him, casting nervous glances over her shoulder every few moments like she needed to make sure he was really there. He let her pull him into a quiet hallway and then through another set of doors until they were standing in an empty, smaller version of the reception hall they'd just left. Shuffling further into the dimly lit room, he turned around to find her sitting on the edge of one of the tables, looking up at him with glassy, forlorn eyes.

"What do you need to say to me, Tara?"

After all this time and in spite of all their history, it was still strange to be standing like this in front of her now. He didn't feel the way he thought he would feel. She didn't look the way he thought she would look. And that was okay because things were different now.

Tara's eyes darted around nervously and she folded her arms around herself. "Jax..."

"What, Tara? What did you need to say so bad? Because if you don't start talkin' soon, I'm gonna back to the reception."

Her eyes bounced up from the floor with terror, shining with unshed tears. He felt a sharp tug in his heart-seeing her cry had always been one of his weaknesses. With a deep, exasperated exhale, he ran a hand over his face and leaned back on one of the chairs, figuring it was best to just let her get it out; then this could really be over.

A few minutes ticked by and he was starting to get impatient.

"Tara?"

She reached up to brush a few wayward tears from her cheeks before shifting her gaze back up to him. "I'm so sorry, Jax."

He didn't miss a beat. "A little late for that, don't you think?"

Her chest was heaving now and she gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white. "I never should have left, Jax; I should've stayed in Charming with you."

He rubbed a hand over his face before letting himself look at her again.

"Little late for that, Tara." He repeated hoarsely.

"I don't believe that," she shook her head furiously and he realized she was literally shaking right now.

"Well, I don't know what to tell you, then."

It was as simple and as complicated as that.

"You don't have to say anything, Jax...I have so much I need to say. So much I need to tell you-these last four months have been absolute torture for me...I hate Chicago, I hate my school, I hate my life there and every day I wake up, wishing that I was waking up with you in your bed."

A few months ago, he would've given anything to hear those words come out of her mouth. Now, he just folded his arms across his chest and stared a hole into the tile at his feet.

"There were so many times I wanted to call you," she went on, her voice shaking with each syllable. "So many times I almost called you...I just wanted to hear your voice, to tell you...but I thought you'd hang up on me."

"Yeah, well, you were right," he shot back darkly.

Her eyes widened and then she scrambled off the table to quickly close the space between them. Even though he wanted to back away, his body kept him cemented down in place.

"I never should've left because I still love you, Jax," Tara whispered into the still air. "I wanna come back to Charming for good...I need to be with you again...I can't live without you anymore."

He mulled over her words silently, impassively perched on the chair with his hands folded tightly across his cut.

"I love you, Jax," Tara was reaching for him now and just as her hands were about to come in contact with his chest, he roughly batted them down. He was trying to be civil; he really was...but the longer they stood there, the more difficult this became.

"Jax, don't," she sobbed, desperately groping for him but he just shoved off of the chair to put some more distance in between them. "I know I hurt you...I didn't mean to...I was just trying to do something for myself. I never meant to hurt you and I'm so sorry, Jax. I'll never forgive myself for that..."

"I think you should go back to Chicago tomorrow, Tara."

She was trembling now and furiously wiped away the fresh set of tears that had streamed down her cheeks. "This is because of her, isn't it? You aren't listening to me because of her."

His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits and Tara seemed to instinctively bristle as she realized she'd just edged up to the line.

"This is about you and me, Tara," he growled. "Nothin' else."

"I'll move back to Charming," she sputtered desperately. "I know it'll take some time but we can fix this-we can go back to being us again...I know you still love me, Jax...don't tell me you don't, because I won't believe it."

He just shook his head and scrubbed both hands over his face. "It's been four months, Tara. A lot of shit has gone down in four months-you fucking destroyed me. All I did for a month was guzzle booze, smoke weed, and fuck any girl who was willing."

Tara flinched violently at his words and reached for him again but he shrugged out of her grasp.

"I'm not that guy anymore, Tara," he spread his hands out to reiterate his point. "I've moved on with my life."

"I get it...I really do. She's your rebound and that's okay-she'll be fine. You've only really been with her for a week, right?"

He swallowed down the tightness in his throat and clenched his fists into the edge of a nearby table. "She's not a rebound, Tara."

Tara just pretended not to hear. "She'll get over it and go to LA or wherever and you and I can go back to the way things used to be."

"Isabelle isn't a rebound," he bit out, feeling his face curl up into a snarl. "Trust me, I've had about a hundred rebounds, probably more-I don't know; I lost count. She's no rebound."

Tara's lips parted slowly, like she was trying to find the words to respond but was coming up empty. Then she just started shaking her head again.

"You're not serious about her, Jax; that doesn't make any sense."

"It makes perfect sense to me," he replied coolly.

"I don't see how that's even possible," Tara's voice shook as she backed up into a chair.

"Look, Tara," he started slowly. "You left. And for awhile, it just about killed me. I'm not gonna lie to you and tell you it didn't. But the fact of the matter is that if you really wanted to be with me, like you just told me, you never would've fucking left. You would've turned your ass around in that fucking cab and come back. You never would've gotten all the way to Chicago and stayed there for four months if you really wanted us to be together."

"No, Jax," Tara sobbed, her shoulders shaking as new tears slipped down her cheeks. "That's not true."

"It is," he shrugged simply. "And even if I wasn't fucking crazy about Isabelle, even if I wasn't in love with her, I would still be saying all this shit to you now."

The weight of his words hung in the air and it took him a moment to realize he'd even spoken them out loud. That was it. He loved her. He was in love with Isabelle. And it felt like something opened up inside him and the huge weight he'd been carrying around for four months vanished. Tara was frozen several feet away from him, her shoulders heaving with fresh tears, and he honestly didn't really care. Suddenly, he just wanted out of this room. He wanted to be as far away from Tara as possible. And he needed to find Isabelle...he'd been ambushed in this room for too long already and he couldn't let himself think about what this must look like, about what she must be thinking. His fingers itched to touch her, to run his hands through her hair, to pull her close and smell vanilla and flowers, to dance with her, to tell her everything that he was thinking right now.

"You're in love with her, Jax?" Tara's meek voice floated through the air.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I am. I think I have been for a long time."

Her eyes widened and she sank into the closest chair she could find, covering her mouth with her hand. "When...when did it start?"

He figured he could give her this, even though he didn't owe her, so she wouldn't have to wonder. "It started after you left for Chicago, Tara. Not before. It just took me until last Saturday to yank my head out of my ass."

A few moments of silence passed as she sniffled across from him, unable to bring herself to make eye contact with him. So he just pressed forward. She'd said everything she needed to say and it was time he did the same.

"Look, Tara," he started hoarsely. "We were never good for each other. You and I both know that there weren't many days when we weren't fucking or fighting or both and Jesus, that shit's just not normal. Everything was always a battle, everything was always a screaming match. That was beyond just being unhappy...we made each other miserable and you know it. Even before all that shit started this summer about you leavin', there was always somethin' we were pissed at each other for, always someone lookin' for a fight."

"I don't remember it that way," Tara called out softly.

"That's because you're not thinking clearly. But in a few days, maybe even a few months, you'll know I'm right. It was never gonna work with us, Tara. We wanted too many different things for it to work. You could've figured out a way to go to med school in Cali if you wanted to and you had to have known I would never leave Charming."

"So you're saying it's my fault because I did one thing, one selfish thing for myself? Because I went after one thing for myself?" She demanded hotly.

"No, I'm not blaming you, Tara. I'm saying it's both our fault. We both fucked this up."

"You can't hate me for doing what was best for myself."

"No, I can't," Jax shook his head. "But you did all that shit behind my back. You knew I wouldn't leave with you and you did all that without any consideration about what I wanted. How do you think that made me feel? There were plenty of schools you could've went to here and we might've been able to find a way to make it work but you had to choose the one that was just about as far away from Charming as you could fucking go. Ask yourself why you did that, Tara; ask yourself why you chose Chicago and then look me in the eye and tell me you still wanna be with me."

Tara's eyes widened and he knew he'd struck a chord. Her hand flew back to cover her mouth and her eyes momentarily squeezed shut, her shoulders dropping down in defeat.

"We were never gonna make it," he went on softly. "Even in high school, we were always just trying to force each other to fit into something that never really had a chance...it never worked and you know it and we should've let each other go a long time ago. But, Tara, being with Isabelle isn't like that-she's taken all the bad, she's seen me at my fucking worst, and for the first time, Tara, I feel like everything fits. I'm better with her...and I wanna be better _for_ her. And I-," he shook his head suddenly. "You know what? I don't have to explain this to you. All you need to know is that I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Something shifted in Tara's eyes and then she was pushing off her chair and headed directly for him. Her hands reached for his face to kiss him but he just shrugged her off, gently brushing her hands back down. But when she bravely reached for his face again, he wasn't as gentle.

"Tara, stop," he held her wrists down at her hips so she couldn't move any closer to him. She was making this much more difficult than it to be. "There's nothing more to say here. I said I'd talk to you because...I don't know, maybe because we were together for so long and shit, Tara, I really don't wanna hurt your feelings but this needs to stop."

She shoved out of his grip, stumbling back on her heel as she fumbling haphazardly for something to support her. "Jax..."

He just shook his head. "We're done here, Tara. And I'm sorry you came into this thinking it was gonna end a little differently but...this can't really be a surprise. Didn't you see me with her at the clubhouse? At the table before? Didn't you see how I feel about her?"

Tara's face crumbled and she whispered hoarsely: "I didn't want to."

Chewing on his bottom lip with a simple nod, he folded his arms across his cut as he appraised her, hoping she was finally starting to get it.

"You really love her?"

He felt himself nodding before he could even verbally confirm it. "Yeah, I really do."

"And you're happy?"

"Yeah, I really am."

She inhaled shakily before brushing another fresh set of tears from her cheeks. Then she pressed a pained smile across her face, murmuring, "Okay."

He smiled back at her sadly before reaching forward to pull into one last embrace. Now that he knew she was on the same page with where things stood between them, it felt like it was safe to touch her now, that she wouldn't get the wrong idea. She clung to the edges of his cut and buried her face into his chest, like she knew this was the last time he would hold her like this. When he finally gently pulled away from her, she sighed desperately, letting her hands slip down at her sides.

"You're gonna be okay, Tara," he smiled down at her reassuringly. "You're gonna go back to Chicago and be a kickass doctor who saves lives all the time."

She laughed in spite of her tears, quickly wiping another one away. Then he stepped away from her and left her standing in the middle of that empty room as he jogged lightly through the hallways, heading straight for the reception hall. Music was blaring through the doors and it was clear the party was already in full swing. He knew he'd already missed too much of Opie and Donna's reception but that was the least of his concerns right now. The only thought swimming through his head as he pushed back through the side door was that he had to find Isabelle. He had to pull her aside, take her somewhere they could talk in private, and tell her everything he'd been too chickenshit to say before. There was so much he needed to tell and more than he'd told Tara-some of that needed to be just for Isabelle's ears only and he was going to start by apologizing, knowing he'd grovel if he had to. He'd all but ditched her for almost an entire hour to go off with his ex and he couldn't even imagine the humiliation and torture he'd just put Isabelle through. He was a fucking asshole for doing that to her.

He hadn't meant to talk to Tara for that long...the time had just gotten away from him and it had felt good to finally get all that off his chest. The irony that he'd realized he was in love with Isabelle while he was getting closure with his ex wasn't lost on him. It had been the kick in the ass he'd needed. He was finally able to see his feelings for Isabelle for what they really were because as Tara all but threw herself at him, all he could think about was how he didn't want her to touch him. There was only one set of hands he wanted on him and only one pair of lips he wanted to feel. And it wasn't Tara's. He'd already wasted five years and an hour too long on Tara; he couldn't afford to lose anymore time.

He needed to tell her. He needed to tell her that his entire world spun on its axis because of her. That she was the first thing he thought about in the morning and the last thing on his mind before he fell asleep at night. He needed to tell her that he would spend every moment of every day trying to make her as happy as she made him. That he wouldn't let anything happen to her. That he would never let anyone hurt her, including himself.

Now, as his eyes scanned the room, all he had to do was find her. He weaved around the tables, looking for that head of blonde curls that he just wanted to run his fingers through, and his heart began to thud nervously in his chest when he found Isabelle's table empty. She wasn't on the dance floor, she wasn't talking to his mother-who was shooting daggers at him, he noted-and she wasn't mingling at any of the other tables. Where the hell was she?

Thankfully, he spotted Becca out on the dance floor with Juice and pushed through the throngs of people to get over to them. His heart dropped into his stomach as Becca's face coiled at the sight of him when he skidded to a stop in front of her.

"Hey, Becca," he panted breathlessly. "Have you seen Iz? I can't find her."

She pinned him down where he stood with icy, black daggers and for a moment, he was grateful they were standing in a crowd of people...with lots of witnesses.

"She left in a cab about ten minutes ago," Becca replied coolly, keeping her black slits carefully trained on him to gauge his reaction.

It took him a moment to process what she'd just said and then, he felt the floor drop out from underneath them. She was gone...and he'd given her all the ammunition she needed to believe that her exit from the reception was necessary. But it wasn't. He needed her to be here with him, he needed to dance with her, to wrap his arms around and hold her close to him, to tell her how much he loved her, to tell her he was never going to be such a dumbshit again.

"What..." he sputtered anxiously, tugging his hands through his hair and wanting to punch himself. "Why did she leave?"

He already knew the answer but he needed to hear it from Becca anyways. He deserved that. He'd earned that kick in the balls.

"Oh, I don't know, Jax," Becca shot back angrily. "Maybe because you disappeared with Tara for an hour? How about that?"

"She go home?"

"I think so-"

He didn't even wait for Becca to finish, instead turning on his heel and taking off for the doors. He jumped around the guests and the tables and the cake, not caring if he ran into anything or anyone. As he leapt onto his bike, his head was screaming that he'd fucked this all up before it had even really started. He'd thrown away the best thing that ever happened to him before he'd even had a chance to really come to terms with what that meant. He loved her. He loved her and he had to get to her before it was too late. Before she had enough time to tell him to fuck off-he couldn't lose her now, not when everything was finally coming together, not when he was finally ready to stop being such a pussy.

As he sped off onto the street and headed straight for Isabelle's house, he prayed that she wouldn't slam the door in his face. That she would listen to him and let him explain. If he could just get a chance to put himself out there, like she did a few days ago, maybe she would listen. Maybe she would see what he saw and know what he knew. And he knew he loved her. He knew he couldn't let her slip away from him when they were so close.

And as her house came into view and he leapt up the stairs to bang on her door, he could only pray that she would answer.

* * *

**A/N-Three updates in one week? What? I guess I'm just too pumped up with where we are in the story right now, I can't stop myself. I think, though, that the next chapter will be my favorite to write ;)**

**The response for that last chapter was amazing...you guys totally blew up my inbox! So please let me know what you thought of this (and I'm always interested in hearing predictions to see if I'm on the right track)! There's only a few more chapters left to go before we get to the sequel! Thanks again for everyone who reviewed/alerted/favorited!**


	17. Everything Has Changed

The couch wasn't giving her much comfort. Of course, it didn't help that even though Jax hadn't crashed there since Monday, the pillows, the blankets, and the cushions still smelled like gasoline and leather. It was probably just all in her head but she was past the point of caring. When she'd first gotten home, she'd raced up the stairs and nearly dived head-first into her bed...and then she remembered the last few nights they'd spent there and what they'd done there and she was back downstairs in a matter of seconds.

Now she was stuck with the couch. And now that her senses were assaulted with yet one more reminder of Jax, a fresh wave of tears streamed down her cheeks. Every time it felt like she finally had a handle on herself, every time she had a moment of peace, the tears just started up again. It was pathetic. _She_ was pathetic.

And really, she had no one to blame for this but herself. Sure, Jax shouldered some of the blame too but she'd known exactly what she was getting herself into. She'd been well aware of the risk and she'd forged ahead anyways. Now the consequences of her ill-fated actions washed over her in full force. She couldn't even think about what working at T-M would be like now...how painfully awkward it would be, how devastating it would be to have to watch Jax and Tara back together, to watch her visiting him during his shifts and bringing him lunch at their picnic table, touching him, kissing him...

Her phone was ringing in her purse, which she'd flung into an armchair a few minutes ago, but whoever it was, they'd just have to wait until tomorrow. It didn't matter if it was Becca or Gemma...or Jax. All that shit could wait until tomorrow because tonight she intended on milking this pity party for all it was worth.

How could she have been so stupid? How could she have been such an idiot? So careless of consequence? The worst part about this whole trainwreck was the fact that she'd destroyed her friendship with Jax. There was no way she'd be able to forget like the last few days hadn't happened. There was no way they could just hit rewind and have a do-over. She'd put herself out there, he'd chosen Tara, and now she had to find a way to deal with that. It was difficult to reconcile the searing pain vibrating from the shattered pieces of her heart when in reality, she and Jax had only been together for less than a full week. She'd fallen so hard and so fast...maybe it wasn't all that fast. She'd been falling for him for longer that she was ready to admit. And she knew the reason her entire body was in pain was because she was in love with him. She was in love with him and he'd chosen someone else.

At the very least, she could take comfort in the fact that it hadn't gone on any longer. She didn't want to think about how much worse she'd feel if she'd had more days or even months with him. At least now, she knew where they stood. She didn't have to wonder anymore but that didn't make it hurt any less. And that just made her shoulders shake with new sobs.

Loud pounding on the front door jolted her upright. It took her a moment to regain her bearings and then she just slid back down on the couch. The last thing she wanted to do right now was the answer the door. Especially when she had a pretty good idea of who was on the other side. Couldn't this wait until tomorrow? Why did they have to do this now?

The pounding was just getting louder, more forceful now and then she heard Jax's voice: "Iz! Open up. Come on...please open the door."

She slid even further down on the couch and rubbed her face with her hands. His voice was muffled on the other side but she could still hear a sense of determination in his voice, urgency even...that didn't convince her to get off the couch. She was a mess anyways and even as she sat here now, new tears slipped down her cheeks, which she furiously brushed aside. She knew exactly what would happen if she opened the door: he'd see immediately that she'd been crying and he'd feel guilty. There was no point in doing any of that. There was no point in doing any of this.

Maybe if she just ignored him, he'd go away.

"I'm not leavin' 'til you open the door, Iz," Jax's voice echoed down the hall.

Shit.

He just kept pounding on the door. Maybe he really wasn't going to go away just yet. Feeling like she didn't have much of a choice, she figured maybe it was for the best just to get this over and done with already. Wiping her eyes and with a deep breath for some semblance of strength, she begrudgingly pushed herself off the couch and shuffled to the door, her dread multiplying by the second.

She closed her eyes for a moment and then flung open the door. Jax was staring back at her, both hands splayed out across the doorframe, panting breathlessly. His eyes scanned over her appearance and then his mouth dipped into a frown. He looked guilty. He looked apologetic. And she couldn't deal with this shit tonight.

"Hey, Iz," he started carefully.

She just shook her head and took a tiny step backwards. "What are you doing here, Jax? You should be at the reception."

His frown spread even further across his face and he leaned into the doorframe, daring to edge up to the threshold. Then he took a few careful steps inside the house, forcing her to back up in an act of desperate self-preservation.

"Why did you leave?" he asked suddenly, shocking the hell out of her.

Unable to form the words to properly answer his question, she just stared back at him like he'd sprouted a second head. Why did she leave? What the hell? He met her stare head-on, expecting some sort of a response but she was too dumbstruck to come up with something that could accurately sum up what she was feeling right now. And that was if she decided he even deserved an answer.

"Why did you leave, Iz?" he pressed again.

What kind of game was he playing here? This wasn't like him. While he'd never been exactly forthcoming with his feelings, he also had never intentionally gone out of his way to mess with her head like this before.

"Because I'm an idiot, I guess."

There. What did he really want from her right now anyways? She couldn't wrap her head around why he was even here, let alone why he wanted to know why she left. Any way you looked at it, the answer should've been obvious. When he took another cautious step towards her, like he was afraid she'd turn around and bolt, she was starting to think maybe that was a good idea.

He was reaching for her now and that just made her eyes well up with tears again. She couldn't stop them from falling down her cheeks but she could stop him from touching her. That would just be too much...that would just toss her over the edge.

"Baby, don't cry," he murmured and then his hands were closing gently around her face, forcing her to look at him, even though she struggled desperately out of his grasp. "Please don't cry."

"Jax, just stop," she exhaled. "I get it...let's just talk about this in the morning. It's alright..."

His thumbs brushed away the fresh tears and that just made another wave slide right down in their place. "You're so beautiful."

She huffed angrily and roughly shoved him away from her, despite the fact that he didn't budge. His calloused hands stayed right where they were and she didn't know how much more of this she could stomach tonight.

"Jax," she pushed out with mounting frustration. "Just go. Please...you're really pissing me off."

His mouth curved up and her heart lurched at the sight; it was too much to bear, too much to handle and she couldn't understand why he was torturing her like this. His thumbs brushed away her tears and she could see him swallowing tightly, gearing up to say what she inevitably knew he had to say.

"I have to apologize to you, Iz," he started softly. "I've been such an asshole...I didn't even realize how much until just now. I'm so sorry."

So it was starting. Great.

"There are a lot of things I should've told you a long time ago," he went on, his eyes firmly locked on her. "Even before everything that went down last weekend...I've just been too much of a pussy to do it. It took you comin' into the clubhouse and backin' me into a wall to realize that everything I want is standing right in front of me."

Her entire body seemed to freeze at his words and she just couldn't process what he was saying. She'd talked herself into figuring out a way to accept what she thought was going to happen. The fact that he wasn't saying what she'd been expecting was enough to make her brain short circuit.

"You've always been stronger than me anyways," he smiled down at her. "So I guess that shouldn't be too much of a surprise."

None of this was making any sense to her. "What...what are you saying, Jax?"

His hands tightened a little around her face, like he was trying to help her see. "You know, I've been tryin' to pin down exactly when everything changed for me and I think I've got it figured out. You remember the night I threw up all over your shoes? The night we sat on the floor of my dorm and we talked?"

He waited for her to nod into his hands before continuing.

"I think that was the night I knew things were different with you. I just couldn't really wrap my head around why. Maybe I wasn't ready yet...I don't know. But all I knew that night was that I couldn't let you sit on my bed. I couldn't let you anywhere near it because you were different. And that's the reason I still can't stomach seein' in my dorm because I don't wanna put you in a position that will make you compare yourself to anyone else because there is no comparison, Iz. No one compares to you."

This time, when a fresh set of tears welled up in her eyes, it wasn't because her heart was breaking. He leaned forward and pressed a quick, reassuring kiss into her lips. It was the best kiss she'd ever received.

"You've seen me at my fucking worst, Iz. You've seen everything, you know where I've been and the stupid shit I've been doin' these last few months-I'm not proud of any of it and I wish I could take it back but I can't. You put me back together, Iz; every second I've spent with you, you've brought me back to life. I love you, Iz."

Her heart leapt into her throat and she inhaled sharply, hardly able to believe what she'd just heard. His hands gripped her face a little more tightly as if to reiterate his point and his eyes were watching her intently for a reaction.

"I was so lost...so goddamn lost and I feel like I've finally found my way again. That's because of you, babe. And I've been such an asshole for not tellin' you all this sooner-I should've realized it sooner and I should've sat you down and explained all this shit to you before today. I'm not tryin' to make excuses because there is no excuse and I get it if you can't forgive me right away. I know I fucked up and I have no problem begging. I'll fuckin' grovel at your feet every day if I have to because I don't want to waste another fucking second of my life without having you in it because I love you."

She found herself smiling through her tears as his thumbs wiped them away again. He kissed her one more time before pressing their foreheads together.

"I love you, Iz," he whispered again. "And I know I said I couldn't make you any promises and that was just me being a jackass again. That was me just being fucking scared. Because I'm gonna promise you right now that I'll never hurt you like this again...I mean, I know I might fuck up again somehow but I'll do everything in my power to keep it from happening. I'm never gonna let anything happen to you...I'm never gonna let anyone hurt you."

She didn't even need to think twice before whispering back: "I love you, too, Jax."

He leaned back a little on his heels so he could get a better look at her and smiled down at her with warm eyes, his hands running through her tangled hair. "I know, babe. Now, can we please head back to the reception? I still wanna dance with you, Iz."

She ran a hand over her face with a groan. "Uhhh...I'm a mess, Jax."

"You're beautiful babe," he grinned as he kissed her forehead and gestured with his head towards the stairs. "Now get up there, do what you gotta do, and then we're gonna go dance."

She laughed as he swatted her on the ass and locked his hands firmly around her waist to follow her up the stairs.

"You're gonna come into the bathroom with me, Jax? Really?"

"I'm not lettin' you outta my sight tonight, babe. You might as well get used to it."

"Oh boy..."

"Oh boy is right...get your fine ass movin'," he playfully swatted her again just for good measure, making her shout out a yelp and scamper up the stairs a little bit faster.

He was right behind her, hands still secured tightly at her hips as he walked her into the bathroom. The second she got a good look at herself in the mirror, she grimaced and immediately got to work, quickly tying her hair back so she could wash the salt off her face. When she looked back in the mirror, she found him leaning back against the wall, his eyes fixed firmly on her. There was something so intimate, so...erotic about the way his eyes followed her every move that she thought she might combust right there on the bathroom floor. If he didn't stop doing that with his eyes, there was no way they were going to make it to Opie and Donna's reception any time soon. As appealing as that alternative was...she wanted to go back to the reception just as much as he did. There was something about him bringing her back, something so incredibly romantic, especially for him...shit, if she didn't distract them both soon, they were going to be in her bedroom sooner rather than later. And she was really looking forward to later.

So she figured the best way to sober them both up was to bring up a sobering topic.

"So," she started as she swiped on some mascara. "How did your talk with Tara go?"

He blew out a deep breath and then his mouth twisted upwards, like he knew exactly what she was up to. "It wasn't as bad as I thought...we both had some things we needed to get off our chests and now it's done. I only agreed to talk to her, Iz, because I guess I figured we owed it to each other to hear each other out...if that makes any sense. I shouldn't have let it go on for so long but she wasn't exactly getting it right away."

"You know," she started carefully, her eyes finding him behind her in the mirror. If they were putting everything out into the open now, she figured she'd have to do this eventually. "I have a confession to make...I knew what Tara was planning...I mean, I knew she was going to talk to you and try to get back together with you. I sorta overheard her and Donna talking at the shower yesterday."

His forehead creased and he immediately pushed off the wall to close the distance between them. He kissed her bare shoulder and then gently turned her around to face him.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I don't know," she just shrugged. "I guess I just needed to let you guys talk so I would know."

"Know what, babe?" His body was completely pressed up against her now as one hand rested on her cheek, the other leaning up against the counter behind her. The friction from his closeness was enough to make her lightheaded and for a moment, all ability to speak left her.

"I needed to know," she murmured breathlessly. "I needed to know that you would choose me."

"It'll always be you, Iz," he whispered into her ear before pressing his lips into hers. The hand behind them on the counter shifted to her hip to hoist her up onto the counter. His tongue slipped in between her parted lips and kissed her more forcefully as his hands crept up underneath the skirt of her dress. With his fingers working expertly at the edges of her lacy underwear, she just about lost all control. This was different than all the other times he'd been with her like this. Before, she could sense him holding back, not letting himself go too far...and now it felt like he couldn't go far enough fast enough. There was a sense of urgency in his kisses now, like he wanted to devour her, and she knew she'd gladly let him consume her...later, after the reception.

"Jax," she panted against his lips. "The reception..."

"It can wait," he muttered hoarsely, his hands lingering dangerously at the edges of her underwear.

"I thought you wanted to dance," she reminded him pointedly and pushed back against his chest just enough for him to get the hint.

He groaned into her hair, kissing her deeply one last time before untangling his hands out from underneath her skirt. "Shit...okay, okay...Christ, you're gonna kill me, you know."

She just bit her lip to keep from laughing when he begrudgingly back away to readjust the bulge in his jeans with a pained grimace.

"I don't see anything funny about this, babe," he eyed her with a bemused expression. "If we didn't have somewhere to be right now...you know exactly where we'd be."

Her entire body seemed to react at his words and she shivered a little in anticipation of what was to come tonight.

"Well," she slid off the counter and straightened out her dress to tease him just a little bit more. "I guess we better get a move on then so we can get back here."

His eyebrows rose at her forwardness and then his lips curved up into a wolfish grin.

* * *

The reception was still in full swing when Jax pulled back into the parking lot. He quickly swung his leg over one side so he could help ease Isabelle off the back and they started towards the entrance hand in hand. It was a good thing they'd left when they did because he had been seriously considering yanking her thong down to her ankles and pounding into her right there on the bathroom counter until she screamed his name. So much for taking things slow.

He could wait a little bit longer, he argued with himself. He'd already held himself back for this long...what was a few more hours? Because as soon as he got her back in bed, he planned on burying himself inside her until the sun came up, or, at the very least until he passed out from exhaustion. There was absolutely nothing wrong with making up for lost time and he felt like, with a rush of adrenaline flowing through him, that they had more than just a few months to make up for. He was ready to dive headfirst into this with her and he knew, without a doubt, that he already had.

So when he led her out onto the dance floor, he barely noticed the looks and the low murmurs that seemed to permeate through the music. None of that mattered to him. All he wanted was to feel her in his arms and breathe in her sweet, flowery perfume. As he wrapped an arm around her waist, he locked their hands together, brushing his lips against her knuckles before pulling her hand into his chest. She was biting her lip shyly as her eyes darted around to the other couples on the floor and then back up to him. None of these other people on the dancefloor or mingling around the hall mattered to him. He didn't care what his mother was thinking right now or if Donna wanted to strangle him for stirring up drama at her reception and he certainly didn't really care if Tara was anywhere within eyesight. All that mattered was this girl in his arms and that he could finally call her his.

She rested her head against his chest with a sigh, giving him ample room to just hold her closer. As the words of the song playing through the loudspeakers registered, some chick was singing to him: "_Cause all I know is we said hello/And your eyes look like coming home/You'll be mine and I'll be yours/All I know is a simple name/And everything has changed."_

Maybe country music wasn't so bad after all. The words, for the most part, seemed to sum up exactly what he was feeling. Everything had changed. Everything was different now and it was like all the pieces of his life just seemed to fall right into place. As long as this girl was in his arms, he felt invincible. Like nothing could touch him. Like nothing could touch them. And he knew he needed to hang onto that feeling for as long as possible.

The outlaw life was all he'd ever known; it was his legacy and his birthright and while he knew Isabelle inherently understood that like she understood everything else about him, he knew that eventually, the life would catch up to them and shit would hit the fan. He hadn't been kidding when he told her it wouldn't be easy but she'd already proven how resilient and how smart she was. Gemma had always told him that there was no in between with old ladies: it was either all or nothing. Full disclosure or tight-lipped. She was right about that. Opie didn't sugarcoat anything with Donna and even though that spurned more fights than Opie probably cared to admit, he'd always told him that he wouldn't have it any other way with Donna. Old ladies needed to be informed, Opie had said, so that they could make an informed decision when the shit hit the fan. It really worked both ways: they had to be forthcoming and give each other all the facts so the other could do what was best for both and for the club. That was the only way he and Isabelle would be able to make it through the long haul.

He could already see putting his crow on her beautiful body sometime in the near future. A ring and babies wouldn't be far behind. He wanted to laugh at himself...just a few days before, he'd been trying to pump the brakes with her, to take things slow and here he was thinking about rings and babies. There was no doubt in his mind they were heading that way. His lifestyle didn't exactly afford many certainties but that was the one thing he was absolutely sure about. The only way they'd stay strong and united was if they gave each other the hard truths, without omission and without fear that the other would run. He knew he'd need to remember that when shit got hard. And with the club, at some point, it was going to get hard. That was just the nature of this life-it ebbed and flowed, sometimes it was down, sometimes it was up and those twists and turns happened at breakneck speed. He just prayed Isabelle would be able to keep up.

When the song was over, a Black Keys song started up in its place and he knew it was his cue to retreat from the dancefloor. Slow dancing was easy. All it really required was some shuffling back and forth and holding the girl close, which was by far his favorite part. Anything with a faster beat was way out of his element. As he kissed Isabelle on the forehead and stepped away, Becca swooped in and dragged Isabelle further out onto the dancefloor.

As much as he didn't really like being separated from her at this point, that gave him a little room to catch up with the rest of his brothers, apologize to Ope and Don for being MIA for so long, and finally face down Gemma's glaring disappointment in his appalling behavior as of late. He was careful never to let his eyes stray from Isabelle for too long and earned himself a big smile whenever he winked at her. It wasn't until Clay pulled him aside that reality brought everything to a screeching halt.

"So, you and the office girl," Clay questioned in his low, gravelly voice. "You official now?"

Jax wasn't entirely sure where his stepfather and club president was going with this but decided to play along. There was something in Clay's tone and the fact that he'd referred to Isabelle as 'the office girl' that set him on edge. "Yeah, it's official."

"Old lady and everything?" Clay bit down on his cigar as he spoke.

"Old lady and everything," Jax confirmed with a nod.

Clay appraised him with a cool, level stare and Jax could've sworn the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. "You trust her?"

"Of course I trust her," Jax frowned. "She's my old lady-she wouldn't be if I didn't."

Clay held his in mock defense. "Alright, son, alright...I just wanted to make sure. Old ladies are privy to a lot of inside club shit, probably more than any of us would really like to know. You just gotta be sure that anything you tell your old lady, you tell her because you know you can trust her. The right person comes around at the wrong time...might try to exploit that and use it against the club."

Jax's eyes narrowed. "Why are you tellin' me this now? Tara was my old lady for five years and we never had this conversation."

"That was high school shit," Clay waved off. "To be honest, I'm surprised you kept her around as long as you did. But you're not some 16 year old kid with a hard-on anymore. The way you're lookin' at that girl over there now tells me you've still got that hard-on but this is different. You and I both know Piney's on his last legs, so to speak, as my VP and everybody and their mother knows you're next in line. I just gotta know that my future VP is all in, 100 percent, and that his old lady's gonna be able to get behind anything he might have to do for the sake of the club. And if she can't, maybe you need to rethink who you're investin' your time in. You and Ope are the next generation of Samcro, Jax, and I just gotta make sure it's being taken care of."

Jax folded his arms tightly across his chest, not at all comfortable with the direction this conversation was heading in. "So you're saying that you don't trust her."

"I didn't say that, son," Clay backpedalled quickly. "She's a good girl-everybody knows that. No one's sayin' she isn't. But she's an outsider, Jax. She may know about all that pussy and Jack you've been takin' on the last few months but she don't know shit about what you do for the club or how you really make the cash that's gonna set her up in a nice house someday. Problems at home and problems with your old lady because of what you need to do for your club will fuck with your priorities, son."

Jax bristled at his words. "I trust her, Clay. It doesn't matter that she's an outsider-I'll get her on the same page about all that shit. It's not an issue."

"Alright," he shrugged and clapped Jax on the shoulder. "Just wanted to be sure _we_ were on the same page. I'm happy for ya, Jax; I really am. You've been in a pretty dark fuckin' place lately and I'm glad to see you finally on the other side of all that shit. If she's the reason you've got your head back in the game now, then so be it."

Jax had to shake himself out of the stupor Clay had sunk him in as he clapped him on the shoulder one more time before slinking off to mingle with the other MCs who'd shown up for support. What the hell was that? The inquisition, followed by the abrupt turnaround, was just as surprising as it was unsettling, not to mention completely uncalled for. While he knew Clay was only technically doing his job as club president and pointing out that Isabelle was an outsider was well within his rights, it pissed him off that Clay wouldn't trust _him_ enough to make the right choice here.

His eyes scanned the dance floor and his mouth curved up into a smile when he found her shaking her hips with Becca. Isabelle was absolutely the right choice. She was strong enough to handle being an old lady. Sure, she was going to need some guidance, but she could do it. Clay didn't know even half of the shit Isabelle had already dealt with in her life and Jax knew that when the time came, and Isabelle once and for all proved herself to be the strong, iron-willed old lady she needed to be, Clay would eat his words.

And as another slow song started and he weaved in and around through the crowd to find her, he couldn't have been more confident his relationship with her, even if it was still so fresh. He loved her and at the end of the day, wasn't that all mattered anyways?

His hands slid around her waist to bring her hips closer and he could feel her sigh as her arms wound around his neck. This was where he was supposed to be. He'd been lost and he'd found himself again in this girl's arms. Come hell or high water, he wasn't going anywhere.

"Hey babe," he whispered into her ear, loving that that was enough to make her shiver. "One more song and then let's get outta here, okay?"

She bit down on her bottom lip and nodded back shyly. "Okay, Jax."

* * *

As they stumbled through the door, it was difficult to keep her bearings long enough to make it up the stairs. His hands ghosted down her back and then it seemed like his hands were everywhere at once. The sheer anticipation, when she'd already been waiting for so long, was more than she could handle and she was grateful they'd left the reception when they did. As she'd kept an appreciative eye on Jax while still out on the dance floor with Becca, he hadn't gone long in between conversations with various club members to either flash her a quick grin or send her a wink. It had just made her want to get out of there that much sooner.

When they got up to the top of the stairs, his wind-chilled hands rested on her bare shoulders, making her shiver under his gentle touch. As his hands kneaded her shoulders, she thought she might melt right into the carpet. Just a little further and they'd be in her bedroom. Unable to wait any longer, she spun around on her heels, promptly kicked them off, and wrapped her arms around his neck to bring his lips down to hers. He obliged her with greedy persistence and he all but kicked her door open to get them inside faster.

When he shrugged his cut off and tossed it onto a nearby chair, she reached out until her fingers found the buttons on his flannel, careful to toy with him just enough to drive him just as crazy as he was making her. There would be no slowing down tonight. Now they both knew where the other stood, it didn't make any sense to not take full advantage of being together. She needed to be with him this way...it was consuming her and threatened to topple what little restraint she had left.

Her fingers worked through the buttons on his shirt and then she was tossing it right next to his cut. He slipped his undershirt over his head so he was standing in front of her bare chested. While she'd seen him shirtless before, this was different. He wasn't holding back anymore and the dangerous, slightly dilated expression in his eyes only confirmed it. His hands ghosted over her shoulders to turn her around so he could carefully unzip her dress, letting it fall into a pool at her feet, until she was standing in front of him in just a strapless bra and a lacy black thong. His eyes seemed to glaze over and his mouth descended on hers, claiming everything she was offering up to him.

He slowly shuffled them backwards until the backs of her legs hit her bed. Easing her down gently onto the comforter, he hovered over her from the edge of the bed while he waited for her to unbuckle his belt. Then she was unzipping his jeans and shoving down his boxers. He evened the score in a matter of seconds before gently nudging himself in between her thighs. His lips left a burning trail down her neck until he sucked lightly on one of her nipples, popping it out of his mouth to give the same care to her other one. Then one of his hands slipped in between her thighs to knead and coax her center into being ready for him, sending her reeling with rippling sensations. God, she was ready. She was ready. So she returned the favor by reaching between them to stroke him until he was groaning against her lips.

He seemed to sense that enough was enough already and didn't hesitate to reach back down into the back pocket of his jeans to dig a condom out of his wallet. The tell-tale ripping sound of foil was heard a moment later and there was nothing but the sound of their heavy, anticipation-laden breathing as he readied himself in between her legs. When she felt the tip of his cock nudge at her center, she sighed into his ear, making him kiss her deeply one more time before he thrust completely inside her with one swift, expert motion of his hips.

She gasped at the friction and she winced briefly as her body expanded to fit him. He seemed to freeze on top of her, giving her a moment to adjust but she couldn't take it; she needed that friction, she needed that burn. But that hit of burning sensation passed as quickly as it came and she pressed her fingertips into his muscled back to give him permission, loving the feel of his stunted, hot breath against her ear. With his hips grinding at mounting speed, she lifted her legs up until he was hitting the exact spot she needed him to, tossing her right to the brink of release. The sensation just kept building and she had to dig her fingers into his sweat slicked back to steady herself—his mouth found hers again and his tongue danced inside her mouth, mimicking the movement of his hips.

A low groan rumbled in his throat, catching her off-guard, and he gripped her hips even tighter, bringing them up to meet him in the middle with both hands and sliding around to her ass to sink even deeper. Everything was starting to get hazy now as she felt herself growing closer to letting go completely—his pace quickened and his ragged breath brushed against her ear, making her cling to his back even more desperately. Just as her body started prickling with little tremors, her head pressed back into the pillow underneath her as her orgasm rocked through her, shooting stars all the way down to her toes. She cried out at the impact, barely aware through her fog that Jax had gone rigid above her, his forehead pressed against her as a guttural groan escaped through his lips and he shuddered into her still-trembling body.

As they came down, he pressed a soft kiss into her lips and grinned lazily against them; he rested his forehead against hers as their breathing slowed to a more normal, less frantic pace. He was still hovering above her and she found herself wishing they could stay like this all the time, intertwined as completely as possible. She never wanted to let go. While she'd fully anticipated that he knew exactly what he was doing in this arena, she had no idea just how completely claimed she would feel. When he finally settled back into the pillows next her, careful to keep one arm leisurely around her neck, she snuggled into his shoulder with deep, satisfied sigh.

"Now that's what I like to hear, babe," Jax murmured huskily beside her.

"I feel like I could sleep for a week," she whispered into his shoulder, trailing a hand down his stomach.

"Then I guess that means I did my job," he smirked down at her before kissing her again.

"And then some," she laughed breathlessly, still feeling a little winded.

He just pulled her even tighter against his chest as the fingers curled around her shoulder traced light circles on her skin. Because she was still flying high, each whisper-like touch left a trail of fire in its wake.

"This is nice," she murmured with a deep exhale. "I could used to this...you know, you riding in here on your white horse, er, black Harley with all your amazing declarations of love, whisking me off to go dancing, and then capping off the night with a round of mind-blowing sex."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Just one? I don't know about you but I think I've got at least two, maybe three more rounds in me tonight."

She smacked him playfully on the stomach, laughing into his shoulder. "Oh God...what I have gotten myself into?"

"You know exactly what you got-and you fuckin' love it, Iz."

"You're spoiling me, Jax."

He just shrugged. "Yeah, well, what my old lady wants, my old lady gets."

That terminology surprised her and she knew she couldn't hide it from him. Even though Donna had cleared up some of her immediate confusion about what all that meant, she hadn't exactly expected it to come up this quickly. Not that she was complaining.

"Your old lady, huh?" she bit her lip as she shifted in his arms to get a better look at him.

"Yeah, that's what you are, Iz."

"Hmm..." she twirled her fingers across his stomach, making his skin jump at the contact. "So what does that make you then?"

"Well, just from tradition, it's old lady and old man."

She crinkled her nose at that term. That just...that just didn't fit him. "I don't know if I want to refer to you as my old man...it kinda makes you seem like you're my dad...or a pedophile or something, doesn't it?"

A low chuckle rumbled in his throat and his shoulders shook with laughter. The arm around her shoulder clenched to lift her up across his body so he could murmur huskily into her hair: "Then I'm just your man, babe."

"I think that sounds about right."

She arched her neck up to gain better access to his lips and brushed her swollen lips against his. "So...does that mean I get a tattoo at some point?"

His eyebrows flew up into his forehead. "How'd you know about that?"

"Donna kinda gave me the rundown on how all this works and she showed me her tattoo at the shower."

"I really love Donna."

"I know...I do too."

"So," he started a little hesitantly. "What did she tell you...about all this works?"

"It really wasn't anything different than everything you told me before we went back to the reception, Jax," she shrugged. "That's why none of it is really all that weird to me...I mean, besides you basically branding me."

"Aw, come on, Iz; it's not like that. It's more like a promise than anything else...like vows. You know, that you belong to your man and no one else."

"Hence, branding," she shot back playfully. "If it says 'property of Jax Teller', than that sounds an awful lot like a brand to me."

"Well, call it whatever you want-it all means the same," he replied exasperatedly. "It means you're mine and that's all that really matters, right?"

"I'm just fucking with you, Jax," she laughed into his shoulder. "I get it...I really do. I mean, not gonna lie, I'm not sure it's every little girl's dream to meet the man of her dreams that says 'hey, guess what, I love you, now get my name tattooed somewhere on your body'. But, at the end of the day, Jax, if you're the one saying it to me, you won't hear me complaining because I'm already yours."

He leaned down to kiss her again with a smirk. "Wow...you're really somethin' else. You know, you really had me going and that's just one more reason why I really fuckin' love you."

She bit her lip slyly as he kissed her again. "I know...I love you too."

"You know," she went on softly. "I was already kinda thinking of getting a tattoo...so maybe that can help me figure out how not to be such a baby about needles."

"Needles, babe? Really?"

"I know, I know...so cliche, right? I can't help it...I can barely handle getting a shot. There's just something about seeing the needle go into my skin that makes me want to throw up. They needed two nurses and both my parents to hold me down for those shots you have to get before kindergarten...that should tell you how much I hate needles. I kicked my dad in the balls and everything."

"So you know karate too? What else don't I know about you?"

"Shut up, ya jerk," she swatted his cheek lightly.

"Seriously, though, babe, what kinda ink were you thinking? I mean, if you're serious, I could get Happy to do it whenever you wanted."

She swallowed nervously and shifted a little in his arms. "I was thinking maybe getting my mom's birthday numerals over here." She gestured to the back of her neck and he lightly traced the area in thought. "I already have it drawn up in my notebook-I just never got a chance to show you yet because, well, we've been pretty busy these last few weeks."

"It would hurt a lot there," he told her gently, like he didn't want to crush her resolve.

"I know...I thought about that already but I guess if I'm going to get it, I'd want it somewhere I couldn't necessarily see it everyday, you know? I think it might be too painful if it was on my wrist or my arm or something like that. Just knowing that it's there, even if I can't see it, would be enough, I think."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," he lifted his right forearm to show her the intricate tattoo that she'd seen almost everyday for the last four months. "For me, I like seein' it-I guess I need the visual reminder so I can't forget. But I like the idea of knowing it's there even if you can't see it, like you're carrying her with you."

"I like that, Jax," she smiled softly and he kissed her forehead.

"Well, don't do it unless you're absolutely sure, Iz. And don't worry about my crow...we'll talk about that again when the time is right."

She smiled as he shifted his arm a little underneath her neck and continued trailing light circles across his stomach, loving the way his skin jumped at her touch. There was one thing that still needed to be addressed; something that had been nagging at her even before she'd charged into the clubhouse in her heels days ago. They'd talk about her getting both tattoos again later and everything that implied, but if they were really going to move forward, she knew the issue needed to be at least partly discussed now. It was no small issue by any means and it was something that couldn't just be swept under the rug.

"Jax..."

"Yeah, babe?"

"What about when I have to go to LA next month? What will we..." She trailed off, unable to finish that thought for fear of the answer.

He didn't miss a beat. "We've got 'til the end of January, right? And I know you'll be five hours away but we'll figure it out, Iz. We'll figure out a way to make it work...I'm not sure what it is yet but we will. We don't have to make that decision right this second, Iz."

That was all she needed to hear for right now. She'd always known she was willing to figure it out, as he'd said, and now she knew he was willing too. They were officially on the same page and now the all the confusion, all the doubt, and all the trepidation she'd felt going into this weekend-and going into this relationship-had vanished.

"This is so crazy..." she laughed into his shoulder. "A few months ago you were pretending to be my boyfriend _because_ I didn't want to do long-distance and now here we are..."

"Hey," he pointed out with a grin. "To be fair, it was really because the douchebag couldn't take a hint."

"Right," she grinned up at him. "But still...I guess it's different when you're actually in love with the person, huh?"

"Got that right, babe. Everything's gonna be okay, Iz," he kissed her hair as he spoke. "I don't want you to worry...we'll figure anything out if we just keep talkin' like this."

"I know, Jax...I love you."

"Fuck, I love you, too. You think you're ready for round two, yet, Iz?" he groaned into her hair. "Because I don't know about you, but I'm sick of waitin'."

She didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

**A/N-So I didn't get this posted as soon as I wanted to but I wasn't happy with my original draft and needed to make some changes. I wanted to make sure this was exactly right for you guys and I'm really happy with the results. The song Jax and Isabelle are dancing to at the reception is "Everything Has Changed" by Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran; it seemed to capture that moment for them perfectly.**

**When I was going back to edit, I realized I put way more foreshadowing in this chapter than I had originally planned but I like the way everything turned out here. I know there was a lot going in terms of things to be excited, worried, and scared about with this chapter but hopefully, that's enough to keep you guys reading! I've got about three or so more chapters for this story planned out and then I'm moving on to the sequel. I have the first sequel pretty much outlined and the second sequel is getting there so I'm really excited to get to work on exploring Jax and Isabelle's relationship within the club. **

**Thank you so much for all the feedback! Once again, you guys completely blew up my inbox...I couldn't believe it. So let me know what you thought: likes/dislikes/predictions/anything! **


	18. A Very Samcro Christmas

Isabelle eyed the menacing tattoo gun Happy was currently sterilizing at a nearby table in the clubhouse and immediately downed one of the tequila shots in front of her. She sucked sharply on a lime, knowing that this burn wouldn't be quite enough to counteract another kind of burn that was heading for her.

"You don't have to do this, babe," Jax's rough hands gently kneaded her shoulders as he leaned into her ear. "I'll just get mine, you can watch, see how everything works, and then Hap can do yours some other time...maybe after the holidays are over?"

She quickly shook her head and forced a brave smile on her face. It immediately fell right off when she saw the concern radiating from him...Jax clearly thought she wasn't quite ready and maybe she wasn't but, really, if she didn't do this now, it was anyone's guess if she'd ever get the nerve again, even if she did wait until the holidays were over-which was really only a few days to wait-she'd just chicken out again.

"I'm fine," she shot back dismissively, her eyes finding the tattoo gun with its aggressively large, glinting needle again. "I'm gonna do it."

Jax's eyebrows lifted like he didn't exactly believe her and she figured he knew her well enough by now to know that there was at least some truth to that. But she'd made up her mind and although she was scared out of her mind of that enormous needle getting anywhere near her, this was ultimately what she wanted. She was going to sit in that chair and she was going to get that tattoo.

It was something she'd been considering for a while and the pain she'd felt on her mom's birthday, regardless of the events that had transpired that day, had only reinforced her resolve. She needed that memorial permanently on her body and she couldn't completely explain how or why it was so important. But maybe it was like Jax had said the night of Opie and Donna's wedding, that it would like carrying her mom with her, even if she couldn't see that reminder. Just knowing it was there would help her feel, even just for a moment, that her mom was there with her too.

And that was how she knew she couldn't chicken out today. That was how she knew she was getting that tattoo today.

So she tipped back another tequila shot and sucked on a lemon while she took a seat next to Jax, who was already positioned in the chair Happy had set up for them in the clubhouse. Since it was just past noon, the clubhouse wasn't completely deserted but had just enough movement around to keep her distracted, which was exactly why Jax had asked Happy to ink their tattoos right out in the open like that. Right now, she was grateful Jax had had the foresight to make that decision.

She leaned over in her chair to get a better look at what Happy was rubbing on the inside of Jax's forearm and she felt his fingers locked around hers with his free hand. Jax winked at her reassuringly and she marveled at how he could just drape himself in the chair and let ink be tattooed into his body like it was nothing. Well, she reminded herself, his entire back was already covered in ink and as he'd already told her, once you've sat through that, you could sit through anything. He didn't even seem slightly nervous as Happy traced her drawing over the inside of his left forearm.

Jax found her gaze and winked at her again. "It's gonna look great, babe."

Her insides warmed at the sight of the compass traced over his skin and felt herself begin to relax. When she'd finally made up her mind a few days ago, Jax had offered to get a tattoo with her with the same nonchalance he used when he asked her what she wanted for lunch.

"What?" she'd asked in disbelief. She hadn't been expecting that...and she never would've asked that from him either.

"Why not?" he'd just shrugged. "I've been thinkin' about getting some more ink anyways...might as well do it when you do."

She'd stared back at him with a frown and crossed her arms over her chest, still trying to wrap her head around this. "Really..."

"It's really not a big deal," he'd replied easily with another casual shrug. "Look at it this way, I can go first so you can see everything that Hap does, how he preps you, what it looks like, what the gun sounds like and then you'll know what you're in for."

There were a lot of things about what he'd said that made her a little uneasy. For starters, the word 'gun' almost knocked her off-balance...sure, she knew tattoo guns were involved in the process of actually getting tattoo but hearing Jax say it out loud was another story altogether. The fact that Jax had called getting another tattoo 'not a big deal' was also particularly unsettling. It was just one more reminder of how different his world was from what she was used to...and how much she still needed to adapt.

"Well," she'd asked hesitantly. "What would you get?"

He hadn't even paused to consider it. "Why don't you sketch something up for me?"

She didn't know how long she'd gaped back at him in disbelief. And she'd seen nothing but complete trust and complete resolution from him in that split second decision. He really had that much faith in her abilities...he really liked her work enough that he'd want to have it permanently etched on his body? And then the answer to that question was simple and completely unnecessary for him to say: he really, truly, and deeply loved her enough to trust her with this.

So she'd retreated to the confines of her bedroom and started sketching, knowing that this sketch was probably the most important, the most meaningful one she'd ever done. It was a tall order-to come up with something meaningful and something that he wouldn't get sick of looking at after a couple years. But there was also something about the fact that whatever happened in their future, he would always have that reminder of her. And so, she knew she couldn't screw this up.

When she'd first shown it to him, she'd been more nervous than when she'd given him that sketch of his bike so long ago and it had taken nearly all of her resolve to allow him to open up the folded piece of sketch paper without snatching it back before he could see it. He'd carefully unfolded the paper in his hands, examining the sketch with precise focus. They must have stood like that for hours, with her waiting nervously and him peering down at something she'd put her heart and soul into. That was about when she realized he was actually holding it the wrong way.

"It actually goes like this, Jax," she'd murmured lowly, gently turning the paper in his hands so the compass turned. "I think it should go on your forearm...probably your left one...on the inside, so when anyone else sees it, they'll think it's upside down and wouldn't be able to use it, but when you look at it-"

"It's right side up," he'd interjected hoarsely, his eyes still fixed on the paper now in both their hands.

"So you never lose your way again," she'd finished softly.

Then his eyes flew up to meet hers, brimming with so much love and devotion, and she knew he understood. She knew he understood what this meant to them both. So when she watched Happy begin the process of inking that compass into Jax's skin and Jax turned to her with that same excruciatingly sweet expression on his beautiful face, she thought she fell in love with him all over again.

"Gonna make me fuck up if you start pawin' at your girl, bro," Happy grunted from the other side of the chair.

Jax winked at her and squeezed her hand. "No big deal, babe. Just like a bee sting, right?"

He'd told her all this already but now that she was seeing the tattoo gun up close and seeing how it worked its way into his skin, a bee sting didn't exactly seem like an accurate description of what she would feel. He'd also said that everyone had a different experience when they were getting inked and it mostly had to do with how much what you were getting actually meant to you. So, by his logic, was that why he was able to sit so calmly right now? Jesus, he never even flinched, not even a crease on his forehead in concentration. Maybe he just had a high threshold for pain.

When it was finally over and Happy was wiping the last excess ink off of Jax's forearm, she saw her sketch staring back up at her on his reddened skin. Shit...that meant it was her turn. The nervous butterflies bouncing around in her stomach were on high alert now and for a moment, she almost felt like she was going to be sick when Jax got up from the chair to make room for her. All she had to do was just breathe in and breathe out; it was really that simple, wasn't it?

Oh god. Oh shit...she was going to faint. Happy was gesturing towards the chair now and because she seemed to be hovering somewhere between total freakout and minor hyperventilation, she barely registered feeling scratchy hands settling on her shoulders to turn her so she was sitting down in the chair backwards. Jax had spun around a chair and was pulling it right in front her as his hands rested softly on her shoulders.

"Babe," he instructed gently. "Just breathe. You're gonna be fine...you won't even feel it."

"Your girl looks a little green, bro," Happy's wary voice called from behind her.

Jax's eyes never left her face as he called back: "She's good, Hap."

It helped to know that he had confidence in her, that he believed she would really do this...and that he was going to be right there through every second of it. She jumped when Happy quickly traced the numerals of her mom's birthday on her lower neck-it was just low enough that she could cover it up with a t-shirt if she wanted to but still high enough that she could also just as easily display it for all to see. Jax's hands gently slid the straps of her tank top a little bit further down her shoulders, then pressed down on her shoulders with slightly more strength. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was happening here-he was holding her down in case she either tried to bolt halfway through the tattoo or in case she jumped and fucked the whole thing up. Either way, she knew she would be eternally grateful he was here, gently kneading the stress out of her shoulders so she could get something permanently on her body that truly mattered to her.

"A'ight, Isabelle," Happy's gruff voice floated out from behind her. "I'm gonna start now. Stay still."

She blew out a deep breath, feeling her heart rate kick up a notch at his words. He certainly had a fantastic way of putting her at ease...what would she have done without Jax here?

"It's just a small one, Iz," Jax rubbed her shoulders gently as he spoke. "It'll be done before you know it."

She bit down on her lip and wondered if anticipation could really kill you. She'd wanted to nod but was nearly frozen, the tension just about too much to bear. Then she heard the buzz of the tattoo gun growing louder as it neared her skin and she felt her body recoil. Jax's hands just tightened into her shoulders in response and then she felt it.

At first, the pain shocked her. She'd known it was going to hurt and she'd known everyone's experience was different. But the actual sensation of the needle burning into her skin almost sent her flying off the chair. A few seconds later, the pain ebbed into a dull, hot scratching across her skin. It was uncomfortable and it made her instinctively want to swat at the nuisance on her neck but...it wasn't horrible. It was almost bearable. Kind of like a hot burn working its way up and down her skin. A few minutes later, she was almost numb enough that it was just felt like constant, deep itching on her skin. It really wasn't that bad, at least not the way she'd conjured the whole experience in her head.

Of course, it probably helped that Jax was mere millimeters away from her with his hands gripped firmly on her shoulders and keeping her in place. She couldn't see him because her eyes were squeezed shut but if she could, she figured she'd see him concentrating more intently than when he'd gotten his own tattoo just now.

She really loved him.

Shortly after she completely lost track of time and she felt Happy rubbing something over her neck, she finally felt Jax's grip on her shoulders relax. That must mean it was really over...and it hadn't been anywhere near as vomit-inducing as she'd been expecting.

"You did it, babe," Jax grinned at her, giving her top-knot a playful tug. "All done."

She blew out a deep breath and stiffly got up from the chair with a little help from Jax, who tossed her oversized purse over to her, knowing exactly what she wanted to do now. After digging out the two mirrors she'd shoved into her purse for this exact purpose, she gazed into the reflection and saw the black script of her mother's birthday numerals staring back at her. This was the moment she hadn't expected, the moment where she realized the true weight of what this meant. It would be on her skin forever now...and that was a beautiful thing. Tears pricked her eyes and then she felt Jax's warm hand graze her back.

"You like it, Iz?"

"I love it, Jax," she smiled back at him. He leaned forward to press a quick kiss onto her lips before turning back at listen to Happy. She was still trapped in the fog that barely heard Happy's instructions about care and cleaning...until she caught that last part.

"You know the drill, bro," Happy was telling Jax sternly. "That means no missionary for at least two weeks...gotta get creative with your girl."

Jax's eyes flew back at her, a mischievous gleam creeping into his eyes and she felt her insides curl with anticipation. "Don't worry, bro. That won't be a problem."

* * *

Up until this year, Christmas had always been Isabelle's absolute favorite holiday. The music, the food, the trees, the decorations, the presents...there wasn't one specific part that she could say she liked more. It was all about that warm, fuzzy feeling all those things invoked and up until this year, she looked forward to Christmas more than her own birthday. This year was the first Christmas of many she'd have to somehow survive without her mom. The new addition to her skin helped ease the pain a little but not enough.

Even though she hadn't mentioned any of these feelings to Jax, he seemed to instinctively understand, just like he seemed to instinctively understand everything about her. The fact that he hadn't mentioned anything about the holiday told her as much. Gemma had already relayed the plans to her about the 'family' dinner and gift exchange. Apparently, because the Samcro extended family had grown so large, it was easier to just draw names. Almost like Secret Santa, Gemma had told her, except not really because "Secret Santa is for pussies", as she'd said. The limit was $20 per gift and since she'd drawn Opie, she figured she could've done worse. The idea, Gemma had told her, wasn't necessarily to get a gag gift, but something that would have 'meaning' to the person, whatever that meant. She just hoped Opie needed a new beard trimmer because that's what he was getting...Donna had mentioned to her more than a few times how much she hated it when he got lazy with his beard so she supposed it was more of a present for Donna than anything else.

All she had to do was bring her presents, eat some of the good food Gemma prepared, and spend some time with this new extended family of hers. All in all, she was grateful to have the distraction today...especially given where her and Jax were currently driving.

She hadn't seen her dad in the three weeks since the incident but it was Christmas and she couldn't stomach knowing that he was in that facility all by himself today, regardless of the fact that their relationship was currently in shambles. She knew she wouldn't be able to enjoy herself even a little if she didn't come see him today.

Jax parked his truck in the visitors' parking lot and got out to briskly walk around to open her door for her. The more time she spent with him, the more he amazed her. She hadn't even needed to ask him to come along with her. It was exactly like the first time he'd gone to the Spur with her to pick up her dad...no questions, no explanations, he was just there. He'd even left his cut in the truck just to make things a little bit easier, given the fact that they were at a treatment facility. But as they approached the front desk, a little voice whispered to her that maybe she wasn't quite ready to face him yet. The memories of that day were still raw and had barely had enough time to scab over. Was she pushing it today and setting herself up for another heartbreak?

A nurse was directing them down a corridor now and Jax followed her, gently squeezing her hand as they walked into the visiting area. Her breath hitched in her throat when she saw the lone, hunched over figure sitting by the window. She'd know that figure anywhere.

Jax's hand grazed the small of her back to help give her the strength to press onward and he was looking down at her now with a pained, worried expression.

"I'm alright, Jax," she whispered in his ear as they approached the table. "Thank you for coming with me today...you have no idea what this means to me."

"I go where you go, Iz," he whispered back, which just made her smile back softly.

Her dad lifted his head as he heard them approach, his face lined with age and stress. He looked so...old. And exhausted. And weary...and sick. Had he always looked this way? Had she just pretended not to notice because it was just too painful? What the hell had happened to their family?

"Hi, Dad," she started timidly as she sat down across from him at the table. Jax slid down next to her without so much as a head nod in her dad's direction. She supposed she should have expected this much from him given the circumstances but that didn't necessarily make this any easier.

"Hey, Belle," her dad replied weakly and watched her with sad, remorseful eyes.

"Merry Christmas," she tried again but found her voice to be just as shaky as it was the first time she'd tried to speak. "Um...you remember Jax Teller, right?"

She gestured with her hands towards Jax and wondered how the two most important men in her life, for better or worse, were ever going to get along...let alone be in the same room as each other. Maybe this whole thing had been a horrible idea in the first place. She waited for what seemed like hours as her father's eyes slowly flitted over to Jax. She didn't know what she was waiting for exactly but it wasn't until she saw her dad's expression darken slightly that she realized that wasn't it.

"Hello, Jax." Her father bit out tersely.

"Mr. Martin," Jax shot back, his eyes fixed on her father like a snake coiled to strike.

This was not going well.

"Dad...um-"

"You and Jax are together now, I take it?" Her dad asked quickly.

She could only nod helplessly while Jax bit out: "Yeah, we are."

Her father nodded simply, like he'd already known the answer to that question.

"Dad," she started again, jumping to redirect this train wreck in the making. "We're not here to talk about me and Jax...it's Christmas, Dad, and I just wanted to see you...to see how you're doing."

Some of the tension radiating off of Jax seemed to retreat and she blew out a deep breath, still watching Jax warily from the corner of her eye. This could get really bad really quickly if she wasn't careful here and she was going to have to stay on her toes to keep this from crashing into a brick wall.

"How are you doing, Dad?" She asked hopefully, glancing nervously between Jax and her father.

Her dad coughed across from the them and Jax shifted a little closer to her instinctively. "I suppose I'm doing as well as you'd expect...they're keeping me busy."

"Right," she nodded slowly. She didn't know where to go from here or what she was supposed to say next. Maybe she should've thought this through a little better...

"Look, Isabelle," her dad started again, reaching out to touch her hand and making her jump from the shock of his touch. She snatched her hands off from the table and into her lap, barely aware that Jax had twisted protectively on the bench, ready to leap from his seat if her dad should try anything else.

Her dad immediately realized his error, and his hands shot up and away from her with a grim line crossing his features. "I'm sorry...I didn't realize...I suppose I deserved that."

She could've sworn she heard Jax growl next to her.

"Dad, look, I'm sorry," she tried to backpedal a little and salvage what was left of this visit. "Maybe it was too soon...I just wanted to see you on Christmas."

For a moment, she thought she saw her dad's eyes glistening with sad tears and then he quickly shook himself free of them.

"Merry Christmas, sweetie," her dad pushed out hoarsely. "I really appreciate you coming to see me...in spite of everything. I know I don't deserve any consideration or any of your time, especially not today."

"It's okay, Dad," Isabelle replied quietly, nervously twisting her hands in her lap underneath the table.

"No, it's really not," he shook his head sadly. "I know it probably doesn't mean much to you now, but I'm so sorry, honey. I'm so sorry for everything...none of that should've happened and I can't even begin to imagine what I've put you through."

She sighed and closed her eyes briefly when Jax's fingers squeezed around her hand underneath the table. This was too much; she wasn't ready to do this, especially not today. She should've given them more time and she couldn't even begin to fathom the epic disaster it was to put her dad and Jax within ten feet of each other, Christmas or no Christmas. Because she'd been blinded by how badly she needed him with her, she hadn't stopped to consider how Jax might react to seeing her dad after what had happened. She wished she could wake up in her bed, cuddle up to Jax, and have this all be just a bad dream.

"I know, Dad," she whispered finally. "I appreciate that...maybe we should go now, Jax."

Jax nodded next to her, squeezing her hand again and when they moved to stand up from the table, her dad's voice called back out to them:

"If you don't mind, Isabelle, I'd like to have a word with Jax alone."

She frowned back at him, quickly throwing a glance at Jax, who had frozen stiffly in a strange, half-crouching, half-standing stance. Then she was immediately shaking her head, knowing that no good could possibly come of this.

"No, Dad...we can do this some other time. We have to get to Gemma's anyway for dinner so..."

Her heart plummeted into her stomach when her dad's eyes darkened at the words "get to Gemma's" and "dinner"; Jax had already taken his seat again at the table, squaring his shoulders to face her dad head on. She would've rolled her eyes at the alpha male act if she wasn't terrified about what would happen if she actually allowed the two of them to speak together alone.

"It's alright, Iz," Jax bit out, eerily calm without even looking at her. "We can talk."

She slowly sat back down next to Jax. "Um, no...look, Dad, whatever you need to say to Jax, you can say in front of me and then we have to go to Gemma's."

Her dad sighed and ran a hand over his grizzled face. "Fine. If that's what you want...Jax, I appreciate you looking after Isabelle like this, helping her and trying to make all this easier but..."

He trailed off and Isabelle felt like crawling under the table and hiding until it was all over with. Jax, on the other hand, was staring back at him with his lips curled up into a snarl.

"Jax," her dad sighed again. "I know I don't exactly have any business saying this to you anymore, given how I've behaved, but I would really like to know what the hell you think you're doing with my daughter."

Isabelle squeezed her eyes shut tightly and ran a hand over her face. She dared to open an eye only to see Jax leaning forward menacingly.

"Look, Mr. Martin," Jax growled. "Because it's Christmas and because, for Isabelle's sake, I'd rather not make a scene here, I'm only gonna say a little of what I'd like to say to you and whenever it is you get out of here, then we can have words. Until then, understand this, Mr. Martin: I love your daughter more than I love myself. That being said, I would rather cut off my own arm than hurt her, which is more than I can say for you."

Jax's words hung in the quiet air for a few moments as her dad sat motionlessly across from them and Isabelle struggled with this mounting disaster. It was difficult to pinpoint what about this visit had been the most upsetting, the most devastating and now, she knew more than ever that she needed to get the hell out of this room.

She swallowed tightly and then started to stand on shaky legs. "I think we should go now...Merry Christmas, Dad."

She couldn't even really look back at her dad as she pivoted on her heel to get out of there, barely cognizant of the fact that Jax had fallen into step with her. His hand lightly grazed the small of her back to lead her out of the treatment facility's door, holding the door open for her as they passed through. The brisk December air, surprisingly cold for California even at this time of year, whisked around them and she rubbed her hands over her arms to warm herself, feeling like there was nothing she would ever be able to do to feel warm again.

Then she felt wind-chilled hands slid over her shoulders and pull her into warm, flannel-covered arms. It was amazing...whatever was going wrong, whatever was making her cry, whatever made her upset, all she had to do was just be enveloped by those arms and everything else just fell away.

"That went well, huh?" Jax whispered in her ear with a laugh. His hands were in her hair now and he gently pulled her face out from its burrow in his chest so he could press a tender kiss onto her lips.

"I don't think it could've gone worse," she groaned into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry it went that way, Iz...I guess it didn't have to."

"You guys are never gonna get along, are you?"

He sighed into her hair and held her a little more tightly. "I don't know; I guess we're not exactly off to the best start, huh?"

"Definitely not."

"I love you, if that helps," he sighed again, his lips curving up into a tiny smile.

"I know you do and yes, that helps," she smiled in spite of the situation. "I love you too...thanks for coming with me and for everything you said to my dad."

"Yeah, well," he shrugged. "I meant every word."

"I know you did...for a second there, I thought he was gonna have a heart attack or something. I don't think anyone's ever talked to him that way before."

"Like I said, Iz, I meant every word. He and I are gonna have to sit down someday and have a conversation but that day wasn't today...but hey, it's Christmas, my ma's got the best spread in town, there're presents waitin' for ya under the tree so...what do you say we get outta here and try to have a good Christmas, babe?"

Her lips curved up as she stood up on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his.

"Okay, let's go."

* * *

Christmas wasn't normally Jax's thing. Sure, he liked getting the presents, but who didn't? But all that other shit, besides, of course, his mom's cooking, he could do without. The warm and fuzzy shit didn't exactly match his leather and any other year, he would be trudging up Gemma's steps, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. But this year...this year was different. This year, he had Isabelle. And given the day she'd already had, combined with the feelings he suspected she had about this particular holiday, his mission today was to turn this day around for her.

A lot of that stemmed on how she took his surprise for her. They'd already agreed not to get each other presents but he'd decided almost a second after that discussion that he was getting her something anyways. That was even before he'd traded with Chibs to get her name for the gift exchange. Part of his gift was something she could open in front of his family, the second part needed to be just between the two of them. He was grateful he'd had the foresight to anticipate how difficult today would be for her and hoped his gift was enough to turn it around.

So when they walked into Gemma and Clay's house about an hour after their disastrous visit with Isabelle's dad, he knew he needed to be on the top of his game. Gemma already had Frank Sinatra wafting from the speakers in the living room and if his senses were correct, dinner was just about ready.

"Hey, kids!" Gemma called out from inside the kitchen. "Just in time...here, why don't you put your jacket in the spare bedroom, Isabelle-presents can go right under the tree!"

He grinned back at Isabelle proudly as she put on a brave face, in spite of everything, and did exactly as Gemma instructed. That was probably for the best anyways. And even if it was attributed to the wrong holiday, he was thankful for having such a tough-as-nails old lady. He wanted long enough until Isabelle was safely tucked inside the living room to put the present she'd brought under the tree, that he gingerly approached his mother.

"Hey Ma," he leaned forward to peck her cheek. "Merry Christmas...food smells great."

"Merry Christmas to you too, baby," Gemma smiled back at him. Then as soon as it appeared, the smile dipped down on her face. "So I take it the visit didn't go so hot? Isabelle certainly looks worse for the wear..."

He sighed and tugged a hand through his hair. "No, it didn't. It was worse than I expected, actually."

"Did you actually expect it to go well? Because I could've told you-"

"Mom, let's just drop it today, alright?" he cut in sharply. "Iz isn't exactly in the best mood right now and let's just-"

He abruptly trailed off as Isabelle strode back into the room and threw an arm lightly around her shoulder to bring her closer. That brave face was still plastered across her beautiful features and today, he'd do just about anything to turn it into something real.

"Hey babe," he kissed her forehead, aware that she was leaning into him a little bit closer than she normally would in front of his mother. She needed him today and if the way she was clinging to him was any indication, he wasn't going to leave her side for any longer than absolutely necessary. He moved away long enough for Gemma to pull Isabelle into a quick hug and then he had her tucked underneath her shoulder again just as quickly.

Gemma lifted her eyes to the ceiling with an exasperated, knowing shake of her head.

"Gemma, is there anything I can do to help?" Isabelle was asking now.

Her mother quickly inventoried the table and he could practically see her mentally calculating what was already done versus what needed to be done.

"Well, actually, I think we're just about set...you two might as well take your seats."

With those instructions, Jax quickly ushered Isabelle over to Gemma's long-ass table, making sure that she was seated next to Donna. Then he dropped down into the chair on the other side of her, fumbling under the table until he wound his fingers around one of her hands. With dinner served, Jax listened happily as Isabelle and Donna chatted away and he made a mental note to make sure to do something nice for Donna in the near future, even if he had no idea what one got a very pregnant woman who was only a few weeks away from giving birth. The rest of the dinner went just as any other dinner at his mother's went: lots of mouth-watering food passed around, all the Samcro family at the table, and lots of swearing and hollering. Nothing like home.

After the table was cleared and all the food was put away, everyone congregated in the living room and it was time for presents. The gift exchange was an old tradition that Gemma had started years ago as the family rapidly expanded and since, for whatever reason, Gemma had always went out of her way to make a big deal out of Christmas, everyone basically did whatever Gemma told them to..not like Christmas was really that different than any other day. He'd never had a problem with the getting-presents-part; it was just everything else that he tended to get impatient about. He really didn't see why they couldn't just spend Christmas in the clubhouse getting drunk, but then again, he'd learned the hard way years ago that it was better to keep Gemma happy than feel her wrath.

He knew the only reason he was even mildly looking forward to the gift opening was sitting right next to him, her eyes glistening with barely contained excitement. As the presents were passed out, he grinned in anticipation...Gemma would castrate him if she knew he'd traded to get her name. The only real rule was that you couldn't have your 'significant other' but he didn't care. Next year, he'd adhere to the rules a little more closely. All he wanted to do was attempt to make this bearable for her. If Gemma didn't get that, then, well, he supposed he didn't really care. He quickly tore open a present that was tossed to him and barked out a laugh as soon as he got the paper off.

He held up the Maxim poster with all the best parts blacked out for everyone to see. "Wow...whoever is responsible for this is..."

He trailed off as his eyes sheepishly found Isabelle, whose shoulders were shaking with laughter.

"Well," Tig called out from the other side of the room. "I figured since you're balls are in a vice, you can't have Darla there in all her glory but I still wanted ya to have it, bro."

Isabelle bit her lip to keep from laughing as he rolled up the poster and playfully tossed it over his head. "Don't worry, Tig...I don't need it anyways."

Tig was up and off the couch in a matter of seconds, practically diving over the their chairs to snatch the poster back. "You have no idea how much it killed me to dismember Darla like that..."

"Oh boy..."

Someone tossed Isabelle a present and he shifted nervously when it was finally in her hands. He just hoped she didn't look too closely at his wrap job...he wasn't any good at it and was suddenly embarrassed by his lack of skills in that department. She was biting her bottom lip to keep her excitement from shining through too much and now he just couldn't wait to see her reaction.

She tore the paper off and stared at the DVD in her hands for a few moments before looking up at him with glistening eyes. He'd just wanted to show her that he'd been paying attention and that, even though it was difficult, sometimes it was better not to let yourself forget. Even though they were in a room full of people, it was difficult to look at her and not feel like his heart was going to burst. God, he was turning into such a pussy...

"Dirty Dancing?" Donna asked next to Isabelle. "Who gave her that?"

Jax gingerly rose his hand. "Yeah, that was me."

"What?" Gemma bellowed. "You were supposed to draw again if you got her, Jackson!"

He held his hands up in anticipation of the incoming onslaught. "To be fair, I traded with Chibs."

Gemma's black eyes widened with fury. "You assholes aren't supposed to trade!"

She swatted at Chib, whose shoulders were shaking. "Aw, come on, Gemma-it's not a big deal...Jackie-boy wanted his lass...how could I say no?"

"Son of a bitch..." Gemma huffed, shooting daggers at everyone in the room.

"Hey," Donna interjected cheerfully. "I wanna know what the story is with the movie. I mean, there's gotta be a story, right?"

He looked over to Isabelle, who was still staring down at the movie in her hands with a small smile. He nudged her gently with his elbow and leaned over to whisper: "You don't have to, Iz...no big deal."

She just pecked him lightly on the cheek with a grin. "I don't mind and I love it, by the way...seriously, best Christmas present ever."

With that, she launched into the same story she'd told him at the diner. Jesus, it seemed like that was years ago...so much had happened since then and if someone had told him then that they would sitting here together like this now, he probably would've punched that person in the face and then drowned his sorrows at the bottom of a bottle of Jack. But his reality, at this moment, was much sweeter than he could've ever imagined as he watched Isabelle glow with happiness. His family chuckled in all the appropriate places and he could see Gemma grinning at him proudly through Isabelle's story.

The present opening continued without a hitch after that and he didn't miss the quick looks Donna and Isabelle exchanged when Opie opened his beard trimmer from Isabelle. There was some sort of inside joke there but he figured it was better if he didn't know. But when everything was all said and done, his number one priority was getting Isabelle alone so he could give her the rest of her Christmas present without prying eyes. It was just one of those things that needed to be done in private where he could at least attempt to accurately explain himself.

So before Gemma, or anyone else for that matter, could steal her away from him, he grabbed her elbow to lead her to the nearest spare bedroom.

"Jax? What's going on?"

"I gotta give you the rest of your present," he whispered into her ear. "But I didn't wanna do it here."

"But I thought we said no presents, Jax...I didn't get you anything."

"You can give me somethin' later," he winked suggestively, making her swat at him playfully. "But for now, just come with me."

He closed the bedroom door behind them and pulled the envelope out of his cut to pass over to her. The jury was still out about how she was going to react but, he figured there was no going back now. He watched her gingerly unfold the envelope's contents and his heart thudded in his chest as he waited for some sort of reaction from her.

When her hand reached up to cover her mouth, his mouth twisted into a smile. Then she was gazing back at him, her beautiful blue eyes brimming with tears and he reached up to brush a stray one off her cheek.

"No tears, Iz," he whispered.

"Jax," she started again as she thumbed through the papers. "This is too much..."

"No, it's not," he smiled with an easy shrug. "It's just enough bus tickets to get you from LA to Charming twice a month because I'm comin' to see you the other weekends. You can exchange them too, just in case somethin' comes up and we have to switch or somethin'."

"Jax..."

He could see another wave of tears about to hit and quickly jumped to squash it. "Look, Iz, I know you're worried about going to school next month, but I'm not. I know it's not gonna be easy and it's gonna suck to be away from you during the week, but I know we can do it. We'll see each other every weekend and like I said, if something comes up, you can exchange them for any ticket you want. Greyhound is surprisingly flexible about that when you're buying tickets in bulk."

She laughed lightly and he closed both hands around her face to force her to look at him.

"I love you, babe, and now that I've got you, I'm not letting you go. But you need to go to LA and you can't feel guilty about that. The way I figure it, a semester is only what, four, five months long and then you'll be home for summer again and then you'll be gone for another four, five months and then you'll be home for Christmas break. And then we'll just keep doing that until you're done. We can do it, Iz, because that's what we need to do. And I have no problem doin' it because CalArts is where you need to be, babe. You said yourself it's the best art school in California and I know it's five hours away, but everything's gonna be okay, babe, because I love you and you love me. That's all that really matters, right?"

"Right," she whispered through her tears and he leaned forward to brush his lips against hers.

"And I don't know about you, Iz, but I see us being together for a long time...if that's okay with you...and I'll do whatever I have to do to make you understand that I'm not goin' anywhere, babe."

"I really love you...you know that, right, Jax?" She laughed again before kissing him.

"Yeah, I know, babe," he grinned against her lips. "You feel better?"

"Much better."

"Now," he grinned down at her slyly. "About _my_ Christmas present...when will I be unwrapping _that_?"

* * *

**A/N-Sorry the wait was a little bit longer with this update; I sort of hit a road block with writing it and got stuck with the pacing. I know it was mostly filler but it was important to set up going into the next two chapters (which are the last ones) with Isabelle going to LA. One reviewer has (almost) completely called what's going to happen and you guys have already given me so many ideas to incorporate in the sequels with all your awesome predictions. **

**Also, I posted a one-shot prequel called "What Doesn't Kill You" last week, in case you missed it and want to take a look at it. It was so much fun to write and I'm glad everyone who read it seemed to enjoy it. I'm definitely planning on writing more one-shots like that and will probably post the next one in between finishing this story and posting the first sequel. **

**So anyways, I hope you liked the update-let me know what you thought. I'm going to get to work on the last two chapters of this story!**


	19. keeping the stars apart

As Isabelle loaded the last of her boxes in the cab of Jax's truck, she felt a cold hand close over her heart. When Jax pulled the tonneau cover down and shut the door of the cab, it actually started to feel real. She was really leaving Charming tomorrow morning and moving to her dorm at CalArts. Seeing all her personal belongings all packed up and shoved into the back of Jax's truck like that was the final nail in the coffin of her life as she knew it. And she really, really didn't want to fucking leave.

Her brain was trying to talk her off the ledge and somehow convince her that this was truly the right choice. She knew she was talented enough to do well at CalArts and in the LA art scene in general. She knew there so many experiences waiting for her in LA and that she really should be excited about that. She knew that, for all intents and purposes, she and Jax would be able to make it work. His Christmas gift was proof enough of that. Those bus tickets were tucked safely away in a duffel bag and she smiled a little at the memory of the best Christmas ever. The first of many, Jax had promised her and she had to believe, with everything she had, that was true.

She jumped a little when she felt Jax's wind-chilled hands ghost over her shoulders and pull her into his flannel-covered arms. The soft comfort of the material, worn in from use, and as she breathed him in, all she could smell was leather, gasolene, and something that was just him. Tears pricked her eyes as she realized that after tomorrow, she wouldn't be able to feel this everyday like she could now.

"You wanna go back inside now, Iz?" Jax whispered in her ear. "Head to bed? Got a big day tomorrow and everything..."

He trailed off like he couldn't bring himself to finish that thought and she knew he was struggling with this just as much as she was. While he was trying to be strong and present that resilient front that everything was going to be fine, they both knew that neither of them were fine right now. There really was no point in discussing this anymore-she wasn't Tara and would never ask him to follow her to LA. Granted the circumstances weren't the same, they were still far from ideal. There was no point in talking about what ifs because their only other option was to cut their losses and go their separate ways. That wasn't an option for her and based on all the lengths he'd went to reassure her, she knew he felt the same way.

So here they were, on the eve of her inevitable departure from Charming and him. It wasn't over, not by a long shot, but it also wasn't going to be the same. This distance was going to change their relationship and they hadn't talked about that either. It probably had something to do with the fact that things were so good right now...what was the point in destroying what little time they had left to keep things that good?

They loved each other and as Jax had already told her countless times, that had to be enough. That had to be enough to see them through the next four years of five hour bus rides and spending the majority of their time apart. Suddenly, with all of this heaviness looming around them, she wanted to do something for him. The last few weeks, all he'd done was reassure her and give her the confidence and resolve she needed to go through with packing up and moving to LA. She wanted to be able to give him the same reassurance, even if it took a little coaxing initially.

"Hey, Jax?" she started softly. "Can you do something for me?"

"Anything, Iz."

"Will you take me to the clubhouse tonight? To your dorm?"

She felt his arms stiffen around her and she could sense she was in for an uphill battle here, but she was determined to do this for him...whether he liked it or not.

"Babe...I don't know," he grimaced. "I mean, we're already here at your place and...shit, you know how I feel about takin' you there."

She shifted her hips a little bit closer to his waist, hoping it would help him read her message a little more clearly. "I know, Jax...but I want to spend my last night in Charming there. With you. In your bed. Can you do that for me?"

He sighed and rested his chin on the top of her head. "I haven't really been there in weeks...it's dirty; I've got shit everywhere...it probably smells...I don't know."

"Please, Jax? I just wanna be with you tonight...in your bed." She jutted out her bottom lip a little just for good measure.

He sighed again and lifted his eyes to the darkened sky at her efforts. "I guess I can't really say no to you, babe...if that's what you want, then I guess that's what you're gonna get."

She grinned widely and stood up on her toes to brush her lips against his. "That's what I thought."

They spent the entire ride to the clubhouse with Isabelle pressed closely into him and his arm wrapped securely around her. It was like they couldn't get close enough and that they couldn't let go for long because they knew that, inevitably, their time like this was limited from here on out. They didn't say much, but at this point, words weren't really necessary, at least not until they finally got into his dorm at the clubhouse.

When Jax held the door of his dorm room open for her, he really hadn't been exaggerating about the mess or the smell, for that matter. To be fair, he'd probably only really stopped in at various points in the past few weeks to grab clean clothes and drop off the dirty ones. He'd even been showering at her house, so there really hadn't been much reason for him to spend much time in this room when he'd obviously wanted to spend that time with her somewhere they could really be alone.

She had to bite her lip when Jax immediately scrambled around the room, shoving the dirty clothes underneath his bed and kicking some of the stray trash out of her line of vision. He always wanted everything to be perfect for her and while she'd never complain about that, there really was no need for that tonight. She didn't care what the room looked or smelled like...all that mattered was that they were here and that they were alone.

"I...uh...I wouldn't go in the bathroom if I were you, Iz," Jax was saying now as he ran a hand over his face. "You're probably better off just using the one in the hallway than mine."

She dropped her overnight bag on the floor and just shrugged. "I don't care about any of that, Jax."

Reaching for him until both hands clasped around the closures of his cut, she pulled him closer to her, needing to do this for him more than she needed anything else tonight.

"Jax," she whispered. "I know you don't like bringing me here and I get it. I really do. I'm not an idiot, Jax; I know how many girls have been in here before me and..."

She trailed off as he exhaled exasperatedly and dropped down on the bed. He was rubbing both hands on his thighs anxiously and for a moment, she wondered if he was having a panic attack. So she decided to put him at ease and stepped forward until she was straddling him on the bed, wrapping both arms around his neck to bring him even closer.

"Baby," she started slowly and she smiled when his eyes glazed over at her new term of endearment for him. "I love you and...I'd be a complete idiot not to care about what's already happened in this room. I know you're not innocent; I don't even want to know how many nights you passed out on this bed with some random girl next to you. I saw it way too many times and everytime it happened, it felt like a knife going right through my heart."

His eyes widened at this new revelation and she was kicking herself for never having had this conversation with him sooner. So she just hitched her legs even closer to his waist, inciting just enough friction to jar the hardness in his jeans.

"I'm not saying none of that matters because you and I both know that's not true," she went on carefully. "But I'm not exactly innocent either you know...it's not like you were my first and I don't think either of us have anything to hide. So, that being said, I want you to know that from here on out, I'm giving us a clean slate. I want us to be able to be in this room and have a fucking good time without you worrying that I'm stressing out over your past and without me actually thinking about what's gone on in this room before me. You are my future, Jax, and because of that, nothing that happened in either of our pasts matters. We've weathered enough storms already, baby, and when I come home on the weekends, I want us to be able to spend our time here, in this bed, and not think about anything but making the most of our time. Is that alright with you?"

He gazed up at her, his blue eyes swimming with more emotions than she could properly decipher, and then his lips were pressed firmly into hers. "Babe, that's more than alright. I really fucking love you, you know that?"

"Yeah," she laughed against his lips. "I know...and I love you too."

She gently pushed his cut off his shoulders and tossed it lightly on the chair next to his bed. Then she fumbled with the buttons on his flannel as his hands went to work on her jeans.

"Make love to me, Jax," she gasped in between kisses. "Please..."

He groaned against her lips and flipped her around so he could pull her jeans all the way off. Her hands were already skimming his flannel from his shoulders and then she was tugging his undershirt up and over his head. She'd thought that tonight maybe their kisses and their lovemaking would be more desperate than normal but it was slower, like they knew they had all the time in the world tonight and needed to make the most of it.

His hands trailed leisurely up and down her legs, purposefully ignoring the hot center in the middle and yanked her tank top over her head. One hand worked around her back to unclasp her bra and then his rough, calloused hands were gently kneaded her breasts, making her arch back into the sheets with ecstasy. This was exactly what she needed tonight...all she needed were his lips and his hands...and she could wake up tomorrow feeling fulfilled and satisfied enough not to break down crying right away.

His kisses were just as tender and gentle as she needed them to be and she felt cherished. She felt loved. And wasn't that all that really mattered anyways?

When they were finally free of their clothes and he dove into a drawer next to her bed, she held firm in her resolve to put the past behind them. They were making new memories in this bed now and she couldn't think of a better night to erase everything that had come before. She sighed with anticipation when she felt him press against her and then slide into her completely with one deep kiss. Her hands clenched around his back as their hips moved into the easy rhythm they'd found weeks ago and his hands lifted her hips up to help him hit the spot he knew she needed him to. Every touch, every thrust of his hips, every moment send her further into oblivion and she just wanted to savor this moment, to sear it into her memory so she could remember this feeling when things got tough.

His movements were gentle, cautious even, like he was worried if he went too fast, she might disappear right from underneath him. With his breath ragged in her ear and his tongue tortuously mimicking every movement of his hips, it didn't take long before she was flying off the edge and floating down the throes of one of the most intense orgasms he'd ever given her. A moment later, he went rigid above her and released one low groan into her ear before shuttering on top of her.

When they came down and were resting shoulder to shoulder, chests heaving from exertion, she knew this particular moment would go down in history as one of her most favorite memories of him. Because in spite of everything they were about to face, in spite of everything they already had faced, he never ceased to show her just how much he loved her. And as long as they could hold on to that, they could weather any storm that came their way.

She shifted a little so that her head was resting on her elbow and grinned down at him. "So was that as horrible as you thought it would be?"

Jax barked out a laugh and playfully yanked her against his bare, still sweaty chest. "That's enough out of you...Jesus, you really must have some secret plans to kill me or somethin'."

Nuzzling into his neck, she nibbled his earlobe just enough to make him groan.

"I was right," he growled. "You really are tryin' to kill me, woman."

"Maybe I'm just trying to get as much of you as I can," she whispered into his ear.

Jax sighed and turned his head so he could press a tender kiss into her forehead. "I told you already, Iz, I'm not goin' anywhere. And I think you did a pretty good job of tellin' me you're not goin' anywhere either, babe."

"I know," she played with the edge of his comforter as she spoke. "Do you think maybe we could just stay here like this...for, like, forever? I think I could lay here like this with you and never move from this spot for the rest of my life and be perfectly okay with that."

He chuckled into her hair and pulled her even closer against his chest. "I know what you mean, babe...I don't think it's really hit me yet. I guess it just seems like tomorrow we're gonna wake up and keep doin' all the things we've been doin'."

"I guess it's hard to accept that things are gonna change, you know? I mean, I know you love me and I know you know I love you...but we can't pretend the distance isn't going to matter because it is, Jax."

"Hey," his voice had an edge now and she could feel him stiffen next to her. "I don't wanna hear that shit from you, Iz. We've been over all this already and it's gonna be hard, but you and me are gonna be fine, babe."

A second later, he sighed again and rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to-"

"I know, Jax," she replied simply, his outburst already forgotten. They were both on edge, in spite of the way they'd just expended some serious energy, and she couldn't blame him for not being able to hold it in.

There was really no point in arguing, especially not tonight when what they really needed to do was just wrap their arms around each other for the rest of the night. She never should've brought it up tonight in the first place...maybe he was right, anyways. Maybe all of her pre-existing notions about how long-distance relationships worked-or didn't work-didn't apply to them. Maybe all this worry and hand-wringing was just wasted time and effort. Maybe she was just jumping the gun in assuming that their relationship would suffer because of this.

After all, they loved each other. So, shouldn't they be able to withstand anything that life threw their way?

* * *

Isabelle trudged up the stairs in her new dorm and barely got the heavy metal door open long enough to pass through. Jax's arm shot out to hold it open from behind her, despite the fact that he was technically balancing one of her boxes in his grasp. She shot out an appreciative glance over her shoulder as they started down the hallway and towards her new room. Because she was only on the second floor, they'd decided to forgo the elevator...which, in hindsight, had been a bad choice.

Her heart pounded with mounting dread as they approached room 207 and she could already feel tears pricking her eyes as Jax stood beside her at the doorway holding the box. With the way things were already going, she didn't think she'd be able to make it through the whole day without breaking down when Jax was here. She'd promised herself she wouldn't cry until after he left but now it didn't seem like she was going to find the strength to hold it together.

She could already feel her bottom lip quivering so she bit down to keep herself in check. With a quick knock on the door to see if her new roommate was there, she slid the key in the door and pushed in. A quick glance around told her it wasn't any different than any of the dorms she'd ever been in before. Same boring, monotonous furniture. Same cramped living space.

"Shit..." Jax exhaled behind her. "Are dorms supposed to be this small?"

"It's pretty much the same size as the one I lived in freshman year at Stanford," she just shrugged and gingerly set the box in her hands next to the bare bed on the left side of the room.

She didn't really know the story of why this room was open or what had happened to her new roommate's old roommate but she figured it was probably best that she didn't. Either way, she was grateful that her new roommate either had the foresight to give her some space or was too busy to be here right now.

Jax had already set the box in his hands next to the one she'd just set down and had his hands on his hips as he surveyed the tiny room.

"That's an awfully small bed, Iz," he muttered under his breath.

She smiled in spite of herself and playfully swatted his chest. "I'm sure we'll be able to figure it out."

"Well, I'm always up for a challenge," he cocked an eyebrow at her. "You know, I already got it figured out. That bed's clearly not big enough for the both of us, so I guess you're just gonna have to sleep on top of me when I'm here."

"Wow...that sure didn't take too long," she laughed.

"Funny how you didn't say one word about the sleeping on top of me part...guess that means you're lookin' forward to it, huh?"

"Jackass," she muttered, even as her lips curved up into a grin. For a moment there, he'd almost gotten her mind completely off of the real matter at hand. And then, when she realized there were still lots of boxes still stowed away in the back of his truck, reality slammed back into her.

"Well, Iz," he smiled down at her tenderly. "I guess we'd better head down for trip number two."

About a half hour later, the last of her boxes and duffel bags were sitting in her new dorm room. They still hadn't seen her new roommate but that was just fine. Time was ticking by way too fast and she just wanted to hold on a little bit longer. Sooner or later, Jax was going to have to get back in his truck and drive five hours back to Charming without her. While she knew she'd see him the next weekend-she'd volunteered to cash in a set of her bus tickets first-the thought of him driving away and leaving her here was enough to send her completely over the edge.

"So," Jax was saying now. "Everything's all here...should we grab some lunch? Did you still wanna show me the art building?"

Yes, yes...absolutely. Anything to keep him here a little bit longer. But she couldn't say any of that because it really wouldn't do either of them any good right now. So she decided the only option she had was just to savor what little time they had left before they'd be separated for an entire week. God, it didn't seem that long...but it would be. It was going to be absolute torture.

Quickly shaking herself out that stupor, she just nodded and gestured with her head toward the door. They left the dorm hand in hand and as they headed out of the building, she was a little grateful he'd left his cut in the truck. On top of everything else, she didn't really need any unnecessary attention on them today and he was still representing the club with his white Samcro t-shirt. For some reason, she wondered if seeing him in his cut today would've been too much for her anyways. It would just be one more reminder of what she was leaving behind-not the club...just him. Everything that he was. Everything he needed to do and be a part of in Charming...and she wondered if she would really be around to see it if she was here in LA.

She couldn't think like that. Thoughts like that were only going to make her crazy and at this point, it wasn't worth putting her sanity through that.

They found a restaurant almost immediately after crossing the street from campus. With CalArts located right in the heart of the city, you could basically turn a corner and find something you were looking for, whether it was food, entertainment, shopping, probably some pretty unsavory things too, but that wasn't why she was here.

After eating a quiet lunch and making small talk about anything to keep their minds off of the inevitable, Jax quickly paid the bill and then they were heading back towards campus. She'd actually never really been on campus before and had just seen it from pictures online, so she knew there should be some part of her that was excited to finally be taking it all in. That part of her was being shoved down by the other part that was screaming.

Still, they found the art building relatively quickly and snuck inside to get a better look at where she would be spending the majority of her time. There were studios and classrooms to spare with student work expertly on display throughout the entire building. Modern architecture oozed from every seam in the wall and she knew that an art student, or really any student, would be foaming at the mouth to get to spend any amount of time here in this building. Part of her was grateful Jax was here with her for her first time inside and the other part wanted to curl into his shoulder and sob.

And when they started the short trek from the art building back to her dorm, she did everything she could to make her steps slower. She was practically dragging her feet by the time they were trudging up the steps back to her floor. The tightening in her chest felt like someone was literally reaching inside and squeezing the life out of her heart. And when room 207 was in sight, she felt her shoulders begin to tremble.

Jax's hands settled gently over her shoulders and it took all of her strength not to just crumble right there under his touch. This was it...it was already past 5:00 and he still had a five hour drive back to Charming. He was going to have to leave soon and she didn't think she'd survive his absence in her room.

So, with a heavy heart, she put her key back in the lock and pushed the door open. As they started back inside, Isabelle jumped a little, startled to see someone else in the room. A short girl with wild, pixie-like dark hair turned from where she sat at her desk and then a wide, welcoming smile spread across her cute features.

"Hey!" the girl greeted them happily and stood up from her chair to close the distance between them. "You must be Isabelle! I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier but I had to work." The girl stepped closer with her hand extended for Isabelle to shake. "I'm Sarah...it's so great to finally meet you!"

Isabelle tentatively shook Sarah's hand, a little taken aback by her new roommate's cheerfulness. "Hi...it's nice to finally meet you too."

She gestured towards Jax with a hand and almost laughed when Sarah's eyes widened into the size of saucers when she took a good look at Jax. "This is Jax, my boyfriend."

Boyfriend wasn't exactly the right term for what he was to her, but in this circumstance, it was the easiest explanation of their relationship. Jax didn't waste the opportunity and hitched one arm securely around her waist to pull her flush against him and reached out with his free hand to shake Sarah's already extended hand.

"Nice to meet ya, darlin'," he winked at her and Sarah faltered a little, looking like she was having trouble breathing.

Isabelle would've rolled her eyes at the entire exchange if she wasn't already on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Thankfully, Sarah seemed to sense that they needed some space and she quickly turned on her heel to grab her bag and her jacket from the chair at her desk.

"I'll just...uh, grab some food so you guys can, um...I'll see you later, okay, Isabelle?" Sarah smiled cautiously as she stepped around them to head out the door, graciously closing it softly behind her.

"Well," Jax started softly. "She seems nice, huh?"

"I think she's in love with you already," Isabelle rolled her eyes with a light shake of her head.

Jax playfully tilted his head and rocked back on his heels. "Isn't everybody, Iz?"

In normal circumstances she would've pretended to slap him, but what they were doing now was anything but normal, at least not for them. She could feel the tight squeezing around her heart turn into a vice-like grip and had to sit down on her still-bare bed to counteract this light-headedness. Jax sank down next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She shifted in his arms so she could bury her face in his neck and then both his arms were clasped tightly around her, reassuring her that, once again, everything was going to be okay.

"I should probably get goin', babe," he murmured in her hair. "I don't want to but..."

"I know," she nodded into his skin and then the dam broke, releasing every tear she'd been holding in since the moment they left pulled out of T-M's parking lot this morning. Her shoulders were shaking now and she could feel his fingers working in her hair, gently massaging her head in a vain attempt to ease some of this tension. But she knew that it wasn't going to get better; in fact, it was only going to get worse the second Jax left this room.

"Babe," Jax murmured gently. "I don't want anybody but you, you know that, right?"

Because her voice failed her, she could only nod.

He tenderly pulled her face out from his neck and brushed some stray hair away from her face. "I'm so fuckin' proud of you I can barely see straight. I can't wait to go to those things where they show all your work..."

"Gallery openings?" She offered with a weak laugh.

"Yeah, those things. I'll be the first one in line and then I'll be standin' there braggin' about how not only did I know you before you got all famous, but I get to take you home at night too."

She laughed through her tears and trembled a little when his thumbs brushed away the fresh stream.

"This is absolutely the right choice, Iz," he told her firmly. "This is where you need to be and I don't want you to waste a fuckin' second of your time here regretting it. We're good, babe...we always have been and we always will be. Nothin' to worry about, Iz."

While she knew his intention was to put her at ease and reassure her, his words just sent another wave of sobs wracking her body.

"I really love you," she whispered as his hands wound themselves in her hair.

"I love you too, babe," he murmured. Then he gently released her as he pressed his lips into her forehead before digging into his back pocket. He passed her a folded piece of paper, his lips twisted up into a small smile.

"Don't open it until I'm gone, okay?" he instructed softly. "I guess I just wanted to give you somethin' you could keep here in your room."

She nodded slowly, her fingers itching to unfold the thin paper and see what was going on. He leaned down to brush his lips against her fingers and then he slowly rose from the bed. With her chest heaving, dangerously teetering on the edge of an all-out breakdown, she desperately reached for him to pull him back down to her.

"Iz..." he whispered hoarsely and she could see his nostrils flaring, like he was struggling to stay strong for her. "I should get goin'."

She could only nod slowly and stood up on weak, shaky legs to walk him to the door. When he turned back to her, she flung herself in his arms and buried her face in his chest. He kissed her hair, her forehead, both cheeks, and finally her lips before gently pulling back, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I love you," he whispered, holding her face with both hands.

"I love you too," she choked out through her tears. He kissed her one last time before opening her door and walking out into the hallway. When he turned back to face her, his eyes were red, his chest was heaving, his beautiful features twisted with barely concealed pain, and he looked he was about to break down right in front of her. He rubbed a hand over his face and then abruptly pulled her to him one last time. With a tender kiss in her hair, he gingerly stepped away from her and grinned down at her, his eyes glimmering with pain.

"See ya next weekend...call me whenever you want, alright, Iz?" He called out hoarsely.

She could only nod as he slowly backpedalled away from her, their hands still intertwined until his fingers slipped away and her hand fell down at her side. All she could do was brush another tear away from her cheek as she watched the only man she'd ever loved walk down the hallway and push through the doors. Time seemed to freeze and her body just wouldn't move from that spot. It was like she was just standing there, wondering if she waited long enough, he would turn around and come right back through those doors. Remembering the paper still clenched in her fist, she quickly closed the door behind her and leaned against it to squeeze out another fresh stream of tears from her eyes. Somehow, she was able to wait until she'd sunk back down on the bed to nimbly unfold the paper Jax had given her.

As her eyes skimmed over the page, a hand reached out to cover her mouth and then her shoulders were shaking with sobs, unable to contain it any longer. The page had clearly been ripped out from a book but it was the words themselves that sent her flying over the edge of the breakdown that had been simmering in her all day.

The eloquent words of ee cummings' "i carry your heart [i carry it with me]" stared back at her and it took her a moment to even completely register what she was seeing. Next to the poem, Jax had scrawled in his familiar chicken scratches: "I hope you're not mad I 'defaced' a book but I had to do it because this guy says everything I'm feeling better than I ever could. Love you, Jax."

Her eyes flew over the words and she had to squeeze her eyes shut. It was just too painful and she slid down on the bed because she just couldn't support her own weight anymore. Curling up on her side, tears poured from her eyes and onto the naked mattress, leaving salty stains in their wake. There was nothing fair about this. There was nothing that felt right about this. How had she ever talked herself into believing she'd really be happy here without him?

Because next to the schools in New York, this was the best art school in the country, she told herself. She'd earned this, hadn't she? So many years of doing what everyone else wanted her to do and not once had she really given much thought to what would actually make her happy. Stanford hadn't been the answer even before she'd had to get serious about law school. She'd thought that this, CalArts, had been the answer, but now that she was here, there was nothing about it that appealed to her anymore.

She knew, instinctively, that every moment she spent here away from Jax would be every moment she'd begin to resent this choice. On some level, she wondered with a heavy heart, when had this _actually_ been her choice? When she'd gotten her acceptance letters, once Jax had told her she needed to go to the best school, she'd went along with it without putting up much of a fight. There was no doubt in her mind why he wanted that for her and it just made her love him even more, but...if it had been completely up to her, would she still have chosen CalArts over the San Francisco Art Institute?

None of their current predicament was Jax's fault; that wasn't the issue here. All Jax was guilty of was wanting what was best for her. But what _was_ best for her? What was actually the right choice? Because the longer she sat here, the more she realized that maybe this wasn't it either. This wasn't where she needed to be.

There were still a few options though. She could suck it up at CalArts because, well, she was already here; she'd already enrolled in classes and sent in the tuition check for the spring semester. She could go back to Charming and wait it out a semester to give herself a little breathing room. Or she could go back to Charming and commute to San Francisco.

The bottom line was: what was going to make her happy? What was going to take away this excruciating, gut-wrenching, and agonizing feeling? Because she knew, without a doubt, that this wasn't going to make her happy. Being five hours away from Jax wasn't the answer...in only a few months, he'd become an integral part of her entire world. Nothing worked without him. Nothing made sense without him. Nothing felt right without him. There was no way she'd be able to feel good about anything she did here if he wasn't really here to share it with her. Besides, he was the main reason she'd even considered applying for art schools in the first place. She wouldn't have had the balls to reach out and grab for anything she wanted if it weren't for his strong and supportive guidance. So the thought of doing any of this without him really being here to experience it with her just didn't sit right with her.

But she also knew that if she put off school, even if she told herself it was only for a semester, what were the odds that she would really go back? If she didn't do this now and waited too long, would she miss her out on her chance to become a professional artist? One who showed their work in galleries and had people pay money to not only see their work, but had those same people actually buy it? A few years ago, that hadn't even been on her radar of possibilities, but the more she'd thought about art school and the whole art scene in general, the more she realized that that, too, was where she needed to be.

And then the answer was simple. In fact, it was almost too simple. There really was no other choice. Why couldn't she have both? Why couldn't she seek out one dream while living out another? There was really only one thing she could do that would satisfy everything she wanted and Jax's note was the wake-up call she'd needed. There was only one option that would allow her to be truly happy.

And it was this moment, much like the moment when she'd sauntered up to Jax in his dorm room and backed him up against a wall, that she felt completely in control. In this moment, she was the master of her own destiny. Anyone that disagreed with her could go fuck themselves, as Jax would say.

With her resolve strong and her mind firm in this decision, she leapt off the still-naked bed and quickly tucked Jax's note in her back pocket for safekeeping. She had some calls to make and some serious work to do.

* * *

**A/N-I wanted to get this up before the holiday weekend because I don't think I'll have much time to write the next few days. So, I've got one more chapter left of this story before moving on to the sequel. The last one will give Jax's perspective one things and then reveal/deal with Isabelle's ultimate choice...and a twist to set up the sequel. Yay! Haha.**

**So, let me know what you thought. Your feedback is always amazing and any insight/predictions also help me see things from a different perspective. Happy 4th of July everyone!**

"


	20. Carry Your Heart

Every step felt like a nail driving right into his heart. He knew, without a doubt, that he'd left the other half of his soul in room 207 and every step just took him further away. This was different than the last time he'd felt this gut-wrenching, all-encompassing, near coma-inducing pain. This time, he was the one leaving her behind and it was the hardest fucking thing he'd ever had to do in his life.

But it was absolutely the right thing. That was the only real comfort he had left. This was absolutely the right place for her. She had too much talent and too much potential to just be wasting away in Charming, working at T-M for the rest of her life. She deserved better than what he had to offer.

And he knew, as he unlocked his truck and dropped heavily into the driver's seat, that eventually, the distance would kill them. He hadn't allowed her to even broach that subject before she left because he knew it would only make her think about staying. There was no way in hell he was letting her give this up because of him. Sure, she could go to school somewhere else, but he'd done his research and knew that CalArts was the place to be for up and coming artists. All the hot galleries to showcase new artists were in LA and from what he could tell and what Juice had been able to dig up, if she wanted a decent shot at getting a spot in any of those galleries, she needed to be in LA so she could start networking. Not Charming and not in San Francisco.

Jesus, if someone had told him last September that he would find himself in the exact same position as when Tara left with Isabelle Martin...he probably would've bought that person a shot for the good laugh. Never in a million years did he believe he'd ever call Isabelle his old lady. It just never seemed like something that was really in the cards for him. He supposed if he was being really honest with himself, he'd never felt he deserved her. She was too good, too sweet, too innocent, and too trusting to be with someone like him. If given enough time and enough opportunity, he knew that eventually he'd fuck up enough to shatter her heart completely. He'd never be able to live with himself if she got hurt because he was too relationship illiterate to figure out how to consistently be what she needed.

And that wasn't even the tip of the iceberg of the danger he could potentially be putting her in because of the club. Clay's words at Opie and Donna's reception had haunted his sleep every night since and even though he knew his old lady was strong and could handle whatever came their way...he knew there was only so much a person could take. Someone who wasn't born into this life naturally had a lower tolerance for all things club related. At some point, something was going to happen that would break her and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure it didn't.

But all that shit didn't mean he didn't wish things were different. God, he would give anything to be able to spend the rest of his life with her. To be able to call her his wife and the mother of his children. For the last two months, he'd tricked his brain into only thinking optimistically, but now that reality was on the horizon, the trick was wearing thin. The reality was that maybe it had been wishful thinking after all. And the cruelest trick of all was that he'd had a taste of life with her for the last two months. He knew what it was like to wake up with her in his arms, to be able to kiss her in the morning and make love to her at night, to be able to show her off as his and parade her on the back of his bike, to hold her hand and revel in the time she was giving him, to laugh with her, to cry with her, to dance with her...it was torture knowing all this now and knowing that his time could have an expiration date now.

The one thing he wasn't about to do was blame her for leaving. Past experience had taught him there was a difference between _wanting_ to leave and _having_ to leave. He could never resent her for that and he would never hold that against her, especially knowing how hard-won this battle was for her. Despite initial appearances, her life had never been easy and even though he knew a little something about having a legacy to follow, it was different when the legacy wasn't one you actually wanted to follow. She'd spent the better part of her life doing everything her shitty-ass father had wanted her to do and he hated that it had taken her mother's death to make her snap the fuck out of it and finally find her own way.

That way, coincidentally, was going to clear her out of Charming and would shred his heart in the process. And as much as it would break his heart, he was at peace with it. If she was happy, safe, and doing what she wanted to do, then he was at peace with it.

He didn't know exactly when the tears started during his trip back to Charming. At some point, he just stopped wiping them away altogether and had just let them carve a salty path down his unshaven cheeks. No one was here to see his few hours of weakness anyways...as long as he could pull himself together before pulling back into T-M, he didn't give a shit how much he was sobbing like a fucking baby right now. It was cathartic. All the pent-up anxiety and frustration-and how helpless he felt-was all released down his cheeks.

The irony wasn't lost on him that he'd done everything in his power-every argument and every guilt-trip he could think of-to keep Tara from leaving him and now here he was, in the exact same position but driving Isabelle to school himself. His reasoning for wanting to keep Tara with him were purely selfish and, now looking back, completely immature. He was scared. That's what it was...he was scared about what life would be like without her. The fact was: he didn't know who he was without Tara back then. His whole life had revolved around her, almost more so than the club, and that obsession completely consumed him. It was painful being with her and he had never let himself think about just how painful it was until after she was gone. Isabelle had opened his eyes to that-she'd helped him see that he didn't need Tara anymore than he needed a fucking hole in his head.

Tara had never made him feel like he was worth something...he was always trying to prove how smart he was or how important he was in the club to try to impress her, even after they'd been together for years. She always had a way of talking down to him, like he was beneath her, and he'd spent five years trying to work his way to her level.

With Isabelle, none of that shit mattered. She made him feel invincible. And when she told him that he was good, that he was worth something, he believed her. Being with her was like breathing. It was just that simple. She was the other half of his soul. His light on the path showing him the way.

His eyes drifted down to the tattoo on his left forearm and squeezed his eyes shut as yet another wave of tears streamed down his cheeks. No regrets. Never.

He'd hung on to Tara for so long, all but clinging to her leg as she dragged herself out of Charming and he'd driven Isabelle to LA with as much encouragement and support as he'd raged at Tara when she left. The difference, though, was him. With Tara, he'd clung to old memories and his selfish need to keep his life from changing. He loved Isabelle enough to realize when he needed to let her go, which meant he couldn't be selfish and try to keep her. But goddamnit, he wished there was a way they could truly find a way to make this work...that they could have both worlds and somehow still be able to stay together.

And with that thought, he pulled back into T-M's parking lot, the passenger seat empty next to him.

Gemma was already waiting for him outside the clubhouse and he exhaled wearily. The last thing he wanted to do right now was deal with people, especially his mother. While he knew she'd want to comfort him and reassure him that everything was going to be fine, he really didn't want to hear it. Still, he also was very aware that his mother was not going to leave tonight until she spoke with him. Might as well get it over with now.

"Baby.." Gemma's soft voice called out to him as he shut the truck's driver side door. She was already moving towards him, so he just met her halfway. "I'd ask how you're doin' but..."

He was extremely grateful she didn't finish that sentence because he really didn't need to hear it right now.

"How was your drive?" she asked finally, draping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into a close embrace.

"It was fine," he shrugged, annoyed at how hoarse his voice sounded. He'd clearly been crying and judging by the anguished expression on his mother's face, she knew it too.

"Oh Jax..." she whispered into his ear. "I wish there was something I could do or say to make this better for you..."

"There's not," he mutttered. "There's nothin' you can say that I don't already know, Ma. But thanks, though. Hey listen, I'm tired and I just wanna go to bed, okay? I'll call ya in the morning, alright?"

Gemma nodded sympathetically and gingerly released him, like she was unsure whether or not to let him walk inside the clubhouse alone. He shot her a weak smile in a shitty attempt at reassuring her but he knew better. He figured Gemma probably wouldn't sleep much tonight either because she too had become more attached than she'd ever intended.

Finally, Gemma let him walk away from her and after pushing through the crow eaters, hang arounds, and brushing past the watchful eyes of his brothers, he collapsed on his bed. For a moment, he almost thought about grabbing the half-empty bottle Jack buried somewhere in his closet and finishing it off, but past experience had also taught him that this wouldn't solve his problems. If anything, it would only make it worse. He was better off just passing out face down in his bed and sleeping well into tomorrow afternoon. As he settled back into his pillow, he turned over to nuzzle his nose into the pillow Isabelle had slept on the night before. It still smelled like flowers and vanilla and he immediately shifted so he didn't have to torture himself any longer.

Somehow, his weary body sank deep into his bed and his eyes closed not too long after.

* * *

Jax had slid into nothingness and drifted away into a black, dreamless sleep. That was why he was fucking pissed when loud pounding on his door jerked him awake. Still in a sleep fog, he just rolled over and planted face first in his pillow. No way was he getting up. He didn't give a shit if the clubhouse was burning down. He wasn't moving from this spot.

Whoever was pounding on his door was fucking relentless. It just wouldn't stop. One eye squeezed open and flicked over to the clock on his nightstand...Jesus Christ, it wasn't even 10:00 in the morning yet. What the hell was so goddamn important that they just couldn't wait until later? Why the fuck couldn't they just leave him alone? Couldn't even give him a full 12 hours to adjust...just have to pound on the fucking door at 10 in the morning and wake his ass up.

"Jax, open up!" Opie's excited voice called through the door.

He just moaned and rolled onto his back. Maybe if he just ignored him, Opie would go away.

"Jax, man, open the door!" Opie called again, his voice still animated and the pounding just would not stop.

"What the fuck do you want?" Jax hollered back and barely resisted the urge to pull the pillow over his head to block all this out.

"Seriously, bro, get the hell out here!"

"Go the fuck away." Jax yelled out in a huff. "It's too early for this shit, man."

"I'm tellin' ya Jax, you're gonna wanna get your sorry ass out here," Opie laughed through the door. "Trust me, you won't be disappointed."

With a deep exhale, Jax pulled the covers off of him and swung his legs over the side of his bed. "Alright, alright...I'm comin'. Jesus Christ..."

After haphazardly stepping into the first pair of sweatpants he could find and throwing on a random Samcro shirt, he flung open the door, nostrils flaring with an annoyed huff to find Opie's shit-eating grin staring back at him.

"What?"

Opie just gestured with his head towards the hallway, the shit-eating grin curling into a knowing smirk. Jax had half a mind to punch it right off.

"Parking lot."

Jax stared back at him incredulously. "What?"

"You heard me," Opie pushed him into the hallway. "Parking lot. Go. Now."

Even as Opie shoved him again, Jax's lead feet still stuck right to the greasy, stained carpet. What the hell was going on? He was too exhausted to keep fighting it, so he allowed Opie to give him one more playful shove before finally putting one foot in front of the other and getting on with it already. The clubhouse was still completely dead, minus the two hangarounds passed out in one of the booths next to the pool table, so it didn't take long before he was pushing through the front doors. Shielding his eyes to fend off the sun's glare, his eyes immediately found the cab parked out right in front of the clubhouse. Just as he was turning his head to ask Opie what the big deal was, he caught a flash of tanned legs and long, blonde hair.

What the...Isabelle was coming around the side of the cab to pay the driver, duffel bags in hand. All breath rushed out of his lungs and his feet rooted him to the hot pavement. He blinked. And then again. And then again, willing himself to believe that this wasn't a mirage, that he wasn't still in bed, dreaming all this up. Then she turned her head, her face breaking out into a wide, exuberant smile, and then his chest was heaving as tears pricked his eyes. She was here. She was really here...what the hell was she doing here?

"Iz?" he croaked out, feeling his feet finally coming out of their coma. He stalked towards her and for a second, he thought his heart might explode in his chest. There were so many emotions swirling around him, he didn't know where to focus his attention first. He just had to get to her faster before his lungs gave out on him completely.

Luckily for him, Isabelle dropped her bags on the pavement and flew into his waiting arms. He lifted her up, burying his nose in her hair. It was crazy...he hadn't been away from her for a full day and yet, that time apart had felt excruciatingly long, like he was seeing her for the first time in weeks. It was like everything was dark and now that she was here, all the light was back in his life. Here, with her back in his arms, he was complete.

When he set her back down, both hands closed around her face and he pressed a hard kiss into her lips. "Babe...what...?"

"I couldn't do it, Jax," she whispered up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"What?" he murmured hoarsely as he ran a thumb over her cheek.

"I just couldn't," she reassured him with a shrug. "It doesn't mean anything without you, Jax. I can't be really be there if you're here, you know?"

"But...how?"

She smiled up at him shyly. "Oh, you know. I had some bus tickets to cash in."

He exhaled with a laugh and pulled her into him again. "Why didn't you call me?"

"I knew you'd just try to talk me out of it."

He blinked again. "Where's the rest of your stuff?"

She just shrugged with a small smile. "I'm Fed-Exing it all back here. Amy was surprisingly helpful after she got over the initial shock of gaining and losing a new roommate in the same day."

Everything was happening so fast and it took him a moment to really grasp the meaning of those words. "But what about school, Iz?"

She grinned broadly and stood up on her toes to kiss him lightly on the lips. "Oh, I'm still going. I would've been back earlier, but I had some business to sort out first."

"I just...I just can't believe you're really here...you didn't have to do this, Iz."

"Yes, I did."

He blew out a deep breath and kissed her forehead, wrapping his arms around her more tightly. "Come on, babe, let's get inside and then, you're gonna tell me what's goin' on, right?"

She just laughed and swooped down to pick up one of her bags while he grabbed the other. Once they were standing back inside his dorm, he promptly dropped her bag on the floor and pulled her back into his arms. It was as if his senses were aware of what was happening, that she was really here in this room again, but his brain hadn't quite caught up yet.

"I'm going to commute to San Francisco...I called the registrar after you left yesterday and I was able to get my spot back, Jax. It took a while and some begging, but I'm enrolled at the San Francisco Art Institute now. I think I might just have to miss the first week of classes until I get my schedule straightened out but...this is what I'm gonna do."

He couldn't quite comprehend everything she was trying to tell him. There were too many conflicting thoughts flying around in his brain...he was so happy she was back, that she wasn't really leaving he couldn't see straight...but did she do it because she was worried the distance was going to break them up? Did she sacrifice her spot at CalArts because of him? He wasn't sure if he'd be able to live with himself if she lost out on her dream because she'd settled for him instead...

"Babe...why?" he murmured hoarsely. "What about CalArts? What about LA? What about your career? You can't give that up for me, babe...it's not fair to you."

"I'm not giving anything up, Jax. I already told you-all that doesn't mean anything if I can't share it with you, baby."

"But you will be sharing it with me," he closed his hands around her face as he spoke, not allowing himself to believe that what he was hearing was true. He couldn't let himself go there, not yet. "I'm right here, babe. I'm not goin' anywhere and the distance doesn't matter."

"It's not the same, Jax. It won't be the same if we're living five hours away from each other during the week and only see each other on the weekends. I can't do that, Jax; I can't live like that."

"Babe," he was practically pleading with her now, desperate to understand what this was really about. "Don't do this because of me."

She smiled up at him softly and ran a hand over his cheek. "I'm not doing this for you, Jax. I'm doing this for _me_. Just because CalArts is the best art school in California doesn't mean it's the best school for me. San Francisco has almost the exact same program; in fact, it's a little better because I get more of a say in my classes and projects than I would at CalArts. I would never really be happy there without you, Jax."

"But..."

"There's nothing wrong with commuting, Jax. I already had the dorm life experience and to be completely honest with you, I'm actually relieved I don't have to do it again. It fucking sucked...I figured I'll move out, get my own apartment, and start living my life the way I want to, start doing what's going to make me happy."

They were sitting on his bed now and she crawled over to him until she was straddling his lap, wrapping both arms around his neck.

"Baby," she started again softly and he felt his chest heaving as everything she was telling him began to sink in. "I know you just want the best for me...that you just want me to be happy and I love you for that. But don't you think I should be the one who gets to decide that?"

Fuck, she was right. She was so fucking right. He'd taken the choice away from her without even realizing it. He'd been so focused on doing what he thought was right for her, what was best for her, that he'd never even asked her what she wanted to do. All he'd heard about CalArts was that it was the best and that was what he wanted for her. He hadn't stopped to think about what she really wanted for herself.

"I need to sketch...to work...to be happy, Jax."

He nodded slowly, feeling his chest heave in and out.

"And I need you to be happy too, Jax. I can't live any other way. Now that I've had you in my life...I need you to always be there."

His arms squeezed around her and he couldn't stop the tears that streamed down his cheeks. It was just the two of them here in this room and he didn't give a fuck anymore if she saw him cry. This was it for him. She was it. And she proved it even more by gently wiping away the tears that slipped down his cheeks. Maybe he hadn't let himself believe that he could really have her because deep down, he didn't really believe that someone like him deserved someone like her. Maybe he hadn't wanted to get his hopes up that he could have what Opie and Donna had. That he could have a wife he would die for. Maybe even children he would sacrifice everything for. And love until the day he died. But it was all here in his arms...all his wildest, far-fetched dreams coming fucking true.

Maybe it was time to stop being such a chicken-shit and start living his life too.

"Babe," he whispered hoarsely. "I love you so much...you know I would never ask you to do any of this, right? I would never want you to feel that you had to..."

Her hands slid lazily up his shirt until it was skimming over his head and a slow smile tugged across his face.

"I never _had_ to do anything, baby. This is what I want...you're what I want. And you're just gonna have to deal with it because you're it for me, Jax. You can't get rid of me, now."

He leaned forward until his face was buried into her soft, sweet neck. "I think I should be sayin' that to you, babe. You're stuck with me...fuck, I love you."

"I love you, too," she smiled against his lips.

There was no more argument left in him and as everything she'd laid out for him settled in his head, it was difficult to argue with her logic. If he was what she wanted, he wasn't going to be stupid enough to push her away. Not now and not ever. This girl...this woman was his entire world and shit just didn't work without her in it. He needed her and he wanted her. And someday, probably later rather than sooner, he would make this woman his wife and she would be the mother of his children. She would have her art and her passion and he would support her every step of the way; he knew it went both ways, too. It wouldn't be long before Piney stepped down and he was made VP and he knew he had an old lady by his side that would be able to withstand anything that got slung their way.

They were strong. They were in love and they had their whole lives and the whole world ahead of them.

With that settled, his lips found hers as he slipped her tank top over her head to officially welcome his old lady back home.

* * *

The Charming precinct was bustling with the new arrivals as a room was cleared for them to make camp. Nobody had to say out loud exactly what the transplants were here for but it didn't really need to be said. The answer was simple: Samcro. So far, the local PD had been very accommodating to their needs and had pretty much adhered to anything either of them asked for. And now, what they really needed was some space and some time to debrief.

Special Agent Matt Jordan sipped his coffee, rocking back on his heels as he studied the pictures meticulously arranged before him. While it had taken him several hours to piece all the connective dots together, he felt confident in his understanding of the hierarchy within the Sons of Anarchy motorcycle gang. Experience had taught him never to judge a book by its cover and so, there was no way he was going to sugarcoat what Samcro really was. For all their charity efforts and general goodwill the townspeople seemed to have for their ability to 'keep the bad guys away', they were by no estimation simply motorcycle enthusiasts. They were a street gang. Violent, ruthless, and deadly. And it was time they were finally taken down.

His partner sighed next to him and tilted her head to the side in deep thought.

"What are you thinking, Stahl?"

Special Agent June Stahl crinkled her forehead as she took a step closer to the black and white surveillance photo of Gemma Teller-Morrow. "I wonder how much she knows."

"What do you mean?"

"She's not just an old lady, you know. She's the old lady. The original. Been married to two presidents. Her son will be next in line. That's gotta be a goldmine, you know? Can you imagine...getting to pick her brain and poke around at everything that's inside? I think it would be fascinating."

"And probably incredibly incriminating." Jordan finished for her with a nod.

Stahl sighed again and ran a hand through her long, blonde hair. In the three years they'd been partners, he'd never known her to be necessarily cold-hearted or mean-spirited about their investigations. Instead, she was a brilliant interrogator and one of the sharpest detectives he'd ever been in contact with. Working with her was a pleasure, especially when she was struck with an idea like this. They'd been given free reign by their superiors to bring Samcro down and he knew they both needed this for their careers. He'd only been with the ATF for four years and even though that was an incredible accomplishment at 29, he still felt like he hadn't quite proven himself to his colleagues. At times, he wondered if Stahl even completely trusted him, but he had to believe that, given the opportunity, she would always have his back. This take-down would take both of them to the next level and there was no way either of them were going to rest until every single member of Samcro was behind bars. No holds barred. Any means necessary.

With that thought, his eyes drifted over to the other well-known old ladies within the culture of Samcro and an idea struck him.

"Gemma Teller-Morrow would never talk; it wouldn't matter what we did or what we threatened her with. She'd never turn."

Stahl nodded without tearing her eyes away from the wall covered in their notes and surveillance photos. "Neither would Luann Delaney. They've both been around for too long to crack."

"But other than those two, what other old ladies are there?"

With a gleam in her eyes that he knew well, she gestured with her head towards the pictures to their right. "New generation old ladies."

"Right...Donna Winston."

"Who's about to give birth any day now," Stahl reminded him quickly.

"Right and then who are we really left with? Becca Ullmer and Isabelle Martin. Those are the only three that I think anyone in the club would actually count as an old lady, next to Gemma Teller-Morrow and Luann Delaney."

Stahl cocked her head to the side as she studied their photos, each lined with their respective 'old man'. "I wonder how much they know?"

"And how much it would take?"

"Well," Stahl murmured thoughtfully as she moved around the photos like a pacing predator. "Donna Winston's a newlywed and about to be a first-time mother. Lots of new responsibility. Lots of stress. Lots of bills. I'm sure the last thing she needs right now is her husband in Stockton."

"And we know Becca Ullmer's been nursing her coke habit at The Hairy Dog. I can't imagine Ortiz would appreciate finding out that his old lady is a closet junkie. At the very least, she seems to be doing a pretty good job of hiding it but secrets don't stay hidden for long."

Stahl grinned back at him and then moved on to the next photo. "And then we've got Isabelle Martin. She just enrolled at the San Francisco Art Institute...what's she majoring in again?"

He rummaged around on the table behind them to retrieve, quickly flipping through Jackson Teller's file for the information. "Majoring in Fine Arts for Drawing and Painting."

"An artist," Stahl huffed. "These people and everyone around them fucking baffle me sometimes."

As Jordan glanced back at the grainy black and white surveillance photo of Isabelle Martin, which had been taken just a few weeks ago as she'd left Teller-Morrow's parking lot after spending the night at the clubhouse, he felt something stirring in his stomach. She was achingly beautiful. Long, athletic legs. Crystal clear blue eyes. Smooth blonde hair. And a smile that could smash your insides into pieces.

"Well," Stahl went on, unaware that he'd just drifted off into dreamland again. "She's got a dad in rehab and a potential career as an artist." After a short pause, probably for effect, she charged ahead. "You know, when you think about it, you take any man-doesn't matter who he is-and you'll find that his greatest weakness is his woman. Just look at history: Adam and Eve. Samson and Delilah. Caesar and Cleopatra. Antony and Cleopatra. Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky. All brought to their knees because of a woman. Some of them literally. Anyways, what I'm saying is why not use Samcro's women? Maybe we have to tail them for longer to really get somewhere, but with gangs like this, the insiders have the most information of any of them and usually, that's the women."

"The women relieve their stress and the men tell them all their dirty secrets. That's usually the way it works, isn't it?"

"As fucking misogynistic as it is, yes, that's usually how it works. So we turn their culture against them. Sure, it wouldn't be the first time an agent's done this, but Samcro is the perfect target. Gemma Teller-Morrow and Luann Delaney wouldn't talk even if we tortured them within an inch of their lives. But the younger women, this new generation, are a different story. They haven't been around quite as long to have the kind of built-in, take-it-until-I-die kind of loyalty that Gemma and Luann have."

"Donna and Opie Winston have been together since they were in high school," Jordan pointed out.

"Sure," Stahl brushed that aside with a shrug. "But that doesn't mean she wouldn't crack, especially not with all that other shit going on too. And then you've got Becca Ullmer and Isabelle Martin, still pretty fresh to the lifestyle, but their men seem to be pretty serious about them, Teller especially."

"They've been best friends since they were in high school, too."

"Didn't they all go to high school together?" Stahl wondered out loud. "And Becca and Isabelle are just recent additions to the 'family', so to speak?"

Jordan flipped through some more pages in their files just to make sure. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

"I say it's an angle to play," Stahl concluded finally. "We've got the time. And if we play this right and play them off of each other right, we could have the whole club crumbled in less than a year. Toppled by their own fucking barbaric hierarchy."

Jordan snorted out a laugh and his eyes inadvertently found their way back to Teller's file, particularly the information about his old lady, Isabelle Martin. Teller was a real piece of work with multiple arrests at the ripe old age of 21. Nothing had been serious enough to give him any significant amount of time and as Jordan took in a surveillance photo of Teller with his arms wrapped around Isabelle Martin, his desire to see Teller behind bars for the rest of his life only heightened.

She was just so beautiful. And from the digital portfolio he'd lifted from her art school applications, an extremely talented artist. This was a person who had something truly worthwhile to offer the world. This was a person who was better than the lowlifes she surrounded herself with. Even her best friend was a junkie and Jordan was positive she had no idea. She didn't deserve this life. She didn't deserve the constant danger that being involved with Teller would inevitably put her in. She deserved the best...happiness, safety, security, and all the things a life with Teller would never give her, if he kept her around long enough to actually get that far.

And as his eyes roamed over the picture of her in his hands, he wondered what someone as beautiful, as talented, and as normal as Isabelle Martin was doing with a criminal like Jackson Teller.

* * *

**A/N-Thank you to everyone who stuck with this from the beginning and everyone else that joined us along the way. You guys have been so incredible with your feedback and it's really kept me going in expanding this universe. **

**My goal with this last chapter was to resolve the obvious loose ends that needed to be tied up before moving on while setting up a major conflict for the next story. Hopefully, you guys enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I can't wait to read/hear all your theories/predictions/etc...I can't promise I'll tell you if you're on the right track or not, but I still love knowing what you guys are thinking. **

**I'm hoping to post the first sequel, "Carry You With Me", by the end of this upcoming weekend. Another one-shot prequel should be up shortly too (haven't decided on the title yet). Thanks again for everyone who's read this. Just writing this, and proving to myself that I could write something full-length, has been reward enough and then you guys had to go and just blow all of that out of the water with all your amazing feedback ;)**


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